


Fight For It

by Sing



Series: Fight For It [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: AU, Abbie is a mermaid, Abbie will most likely have multiple love interests, Ambition, Comedy, Drama, Everyone is messy, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, If you know how I write you knew this was coming, OOC, Out of Character, Romance, Slow Burn, complex bonds, drive, go figure I managed to put fluff in here, grit - Freeform, hardknock life, there will be no boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 49,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6878017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra Mighty Mills was a champion, and he went down fighting.</p><p> Now, years after, his daughters struggle still with grief and the scar that fighting world left on their family. But they've moved on, mostly. Abbie's a mermaid at the Marine Park, Jenny's getting her tattoo apprenticeship. They look forward.  Until a friend from the past resurfaces and entreats Abbie to venture back into the world that took her father. </p><p>But they've got history. </p><p>And new in town, city slick, surprisingly eloquent  manager Ichabod Crane is rearing a ring terror of his own. </p><p>Will the ring claim another life?  or a heart?</p><p>Whatever these misfits want, whatever they aspire to---</p><p> they're gonna  Fight For It.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going all out of the box on attempting a sort of gritty AU here. 
> 
> Comments please!
> 
> And hey look at me ACTUALLY using the processor on here!

Ezra looks up as the door opens "Lori What are you doing here?"

Lori cocks her hip to the side. "You know these girls never miss a fight. Couldn't stay away if you paid them."

 

"Got me all nervous," he chuckles as he begins to wrap his hands. "How'd you get them in here anyway?"

"Same way I always do, you know August sneaks them in." She leans up off the wall and drapes her arms around his neck."I don't like this Ezra." She strokes the side of his face, watches him wince as she brushes her finger along a bruise.

 

"Last fight Lori." He promises, eyes twinkling, voice husky with ambition and hope. "Last fight, we're set. College fund for the girls. Give you that house you've always been dreaming of." he leans in to nuzzle her neck. "And I'll be a legend."

"You been a legend Ezra." she retorts. "Everyone knows Mighty Mills in that ring. No one questions that. But enough is never enough for you. We have a house. We survive."

"And I want more." he replies with a hiss, making to pull away from her but she latches on tighter.

"You not gone die in that ring and leave me here Ezra Mills." she warns. "You not gone do this to my daughters. They need you. I need you."

He pauses, taking in the shimmering fear in her eyes, the rigidity of her limbs. "I've heard what they say about this one. I've heard---"

"Wives tales sweetheart." he grumbles, drawing her in, caressing her hair. Her fingers lace behind his back, hugging him close. "I'm gonna go out there. Win. And go out in a rich blaze of glory. Trust me baby." he pulls back and leans his forehead against hers, holding her face between his hands he closes his eyes and they inhale each other's breath before he opens them again, locking eyes with those of his wife. "Trust me," he rumbles and she gazes back at him, places her hands over his. "I love you."

 

"I love you, Ezra." Ezra cracks a grin.

"Kiss me for luck."

"Hmmph" and Lori leans in, gently at first before she lets the tide sweep over her and she draws him in. She kisses him long and deeply until he finally breaks away for air.

 

"Easy now." he laughs. "You won't have anything for our victory round later."

"You come home to me." she scolds, kissing him again, tempted to get lost in his arms. "I'll bring the girls through, let 'em wish their daddy luck before his last big match."

"I love you Lori. All my heart and soul. Don't you forget it."

Pausing at the door Lori glances over her shoulder, she shoots him a saucy look. More confidence than she truly feels. He's still healing from a rib injury. He just barely made clearance for this match. In fact she strongly suspects him and August convinced Nevins to falsify his report. "I'll never forget baby. Fight hard."

"I always do. Now bring my girls in."

"Abbie, Jenny, your thick headed father wants to see you," she calls and both girls bound in.

Abbie sixteen, strong stony and silent, and her sister, two years her junior but two heads taller, spunky and spit fire. Both of them too rough for girls their age. Growing up around the ring, play sparring with their father. Tumbling with August's boy. Lori's tried very hard to encourage them in other interests. She wants no part of the ring for her girls. None whatsoever.

But she knows they're drawn to it. They get the most out of their father when it comes to fighting. Their memories are comprised of nights at the gym. Loading up his weights. Holding the punching bag. Running with him. Devising their own workout regimen. Watching their father drive and punch at August. Running him his medicines from Nevins with lolli pops in their mouths.

They go to their father now and embrace him and encourage him and he holds them extra tight. "I love you girls. I love you Abbie. I love you Jenny. Don't you ever forget that. I love you. I want you to know whatever happens out there. You gotta go after life with your all. With your heart. If you want something, you fight. Fight hard, girls. Fight for it."

"Love you daddy." Abbie whispers, fingers biting into his shoulder and he winces. That tear from his last fight still troubles him.

"Love you dad" Jenny nods. They both press kisses to his cheek and then the doorway darkens with a shadow.

August Corbin. Coach and manager. Family friend. Their God Father. "Clear out gals I need him to get his game face on. Need him to have time to let all that 'love' get out his system." he teases as he shoos them out. "You alright Ezra?"

"I gotta be August you know I got bills."

"Nevins got you again?"

"For the pain, man. You know I need it. Win this fight I can pay him off for the meds."

"And the debt." August lights a cigarette and takes a hard drag. "Lori know?"

"Nah man. She can't know either. That's why I need to win this tonight." August coughs loudly and eyes the cigarette suspiciously, as if accusing it of doing him harm. Never mind his asthma and his blood pressure. " Yeah well we all stand to gain a lot from this. If you win. You're no good to none of us dead."

"Look I know my body. You know it, Nevins knows it, you cleared me didn't you?" August screws up his mouth.

"Ezra," he begins doubtfully.

"You ready?" one of the staff has dashed back to call them. Ezra makes a show of stretching and flexing, takes a practice swing at the mans head just to watch him flinch.

"Ready."

* * *

 

 She takes a deep breath and dives. Screams fill her ears. Blood thirsty roars.

_"Mighty Mills. Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills. Strong like Samson. Swift as a snake. Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills."_

The water rushes by her, the screaming and chanting continues as she dives deeper. She hears the bell and it takes her back again. Always does. Every time. It's Pavlonian by now.

_Ding_

_Two feral roars._

_"Let's Go Ezra!"_

_"Hit Em! Hit Em!"_

_"Come on Devil, come on!"_

_"He looking slow to you?"_

_"Shut up that is smack your daddy ride your mama Mighty Mills, ain't NO ONE gonna beat him down."_

_"Let's GOOOOO EZRA!"_

_"MIGHTY MILLS."_

_"MIGHT-Y MIGHT-Y"_

_"Send him to HELL DEVIL"_

_"MIGHTY MIGHTY MIGHTY MILLS" "FIGHT FOR IT"_

_"FIGHT HARD"_

_A rhythm picks up. "Might-y might-y!"_

_The answer. "Ez-ra Mills."_

_"MIGHT-Y, MIGHT-Y"_

_"EZ-RA MILLS"_

_She screams herself hoarse beside her sister, struggling to restrain herself from bounding over the barricade when a punch makes him stagger, doubling over._

_"Give em Hell Devil!"_

_"GIVE EM HELL"_

_"FIGHT FOR IT"_

_"Let's GOOOO DEVIL"_

_"EZRA!" she glances over her shoulder at her mother yelling behind her. Her cry sounds different. Panicked. Afraid._

_"Come on come on come on!"_

_"Man I got a grand riding on this fight."_

_"I got your momma riding on this fight."_

_"I'mma send Mighty Mills to whoop your ass when this fight is done."_

_"EZRA" Lori cries out again._

_"OOOH" goes through the crowd. A crash, a thud. A grunt. "Oooh" someone beside her cringes. It's Jenny. Wincing because she's holding her fingers too tight. He goes down in the corner. Blinks around as if dazed. Something's wrong._

_"Stop!" Lori yells. "Stop the fight! STOP"_

_"What's wrong with Mills? what's wrong?"_

_The_ water rushes in her ears. 

_"Let's go Ezra!"_

_"Come on, shake it off!"_

_"STOP THE FIGHT"_

She swims harder, the cheers around her growing louder, frenzied. A flash of gold and silver trails behind her. Flicking and swirling, mesmerizing the crowd. Down and over and around. This is her spotlight. She does her own tricks here, whatever she pleases.

"Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills!" Over and under darting around the reefs and obstacles. That's her. Mighty Mills.

_"STOP" Augusts voice._

_"Ezra, Ezra!" Lori clambers over the barricade, scrambling to be by his side. His opponent backs up, hands raised in the air, a look of horror on his face._

_"I didn't mean"_

_"Get away from him." Lori's voice cuts through the noise. Calculated silence as the doctors rush in._

Last trick Mills, she thinks as she dives further downward and begins to spiral furiously toward the surface.

"Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills!"

She leaps upward, propelled by her teammates into the air, twisting and twirling before splashing back down into the depths. Met by a riot of applause and whistling and enthusiastic cheering of little boys and girls.

"And there you have it folks, our premier Mermaid. The most fearless and finessed. Mighty Abigail Mills!"

_He's wheezing as they take him into emergency. She can still hear the terrible calling of the spectators as they'd left._

_"Coward"_

_"Weak"_

_"Devil did him in! He's going to hell for sure!"_

_"Mighty Mills let that little punk get him?"_

_A lucky blow, they'd call it later._

_Nothing else after that had registered what with her mother arguing with them, no, they were wrong, there was no way in HELL._

_"I'm Sorry, Mrs Mills."_

_"You gone be sorry if you don't bring my husband back out here." she threatens, tears brimming in her eyes._

_"I'm sorry."_

_the doctor repeats. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

* * *

After the audience disappears she swims to the shore and Danny helps her up out of the pool.

"Hey. You dazzled out there." he says, eyes sparkling in the sun. She grins at him as she turns over and fiddles for the zipper on the tail.

"Thanks Danny."

He looks at her funny "For what?"

"For being there."

"Oh shut up" he laughs and she joins in with him, accepting the towel he offers her. "Tell me why you never went for an olympic team?"

"Get out of here with that Danny. Ain't nobody around here got time for that."

"Never say never Mills."

"Never." she replies staunchly, just to spite him and smirks when he huffs and strides away to help the other staff put away equipment.

* * *

_"Today is a sad day in the professional sporting world. Ezra Mighty Mills passed away today. He was fatally injured in his last match, a big ticket match that would have granted the victor over 1.5 million dollars. Ezra was cleared for the fight but doctors say he was clearly still ailing from previous injuries. They say that Doctor Nevin's had been helping Ezra dope for his past few matches and may have falsified his last report in order for Mills to fight. A fan memorial will be held at Ezra's old ring, this saturday."_

* * *

 

That had been the day.

That had truly been his last match.

Abbie stops at the gym on her way home. His gym. She always does. Has done, for years. She's older now. Strong, hard. Graceful in the water. She'd gone as far as she could from fighting when her father died. Jenny went another route all together.

They didn't make anything easier on their mother. Parties and drugs and rough living. They finished school. She damn well had made them. Half addled and grieving and reckless they scrounged up scholarships for the strangest accomplishments.

They didn't question the validity of the money, didn't dare. But even after, diploma and all, looked back on the ruin of their home life and they just weren't cut for those straight laced book nook careers.

She got her job here, at this marine park. Premier Mermaid.

Loved her job.

Really.

Helped her escape a bit.

Live in a fantasy.

Jenny discovered a knack for graffiti art. And when that got her in too much trouble she started apprenticing at Witching Hour Tattoo Parlour. Another pair of sisters they knew well. Got along with. Abbie suspects they probably played a little too close to the other side of the tracks for her liking, but who didn't now a days.

In the world of today, it was a wonder if you managed to stay on the right side for long.

Darkness will find you, like it or not.

You just tried to survive it, light a match until you could find your way back out again.

As she pushes the door it squeals on its hinges and she blinks in dazed confusion when she looks up at the ring.

"Am I dreaming?" she wonders aloud as she advances and the two people sparring pause. One of them looks at her, eyes registering surprise.

"Mills?"

"Baby Joe?" she calls. His opponent laughs and makes cooing noises. He swings a punch in their arm and laughs.

"Shut up with that man. Mills that you?"

"Who the hell would it be?" she asks as she draws closer, hefting her bag over her shoulder.

"What you think you doing in there?"

"Uh, what's it look like, training."

"Your daddy know you out here?"

A frown flashes across his face. "No. No I….listen Abbie, I'm actually glad you came by."

"Aww yeah?" He nods for his friend to scram and then climbs down from the ring, he slings an arm around her shoulder. "He won't coach me."

"Who, your dad?"

"Nah. Says it's dangerous."

 _Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills._ Drums in her brain.

"It _is_ dangerous Joe."

"But I'm good Abbie." he leans in. "Real good. Didn't I use to give you a good turn?"

"When we were _kids_ ," she stresses.

"Well we're grown now. What do you say?"

"What do I say to what?"

"Coach me."

"Baby Joe says what?" He rolls his eyes.

"There's an opening match coming up, for amateurs. I just need some pointers---"

"Hell no Joe. Nuh uh. How can you ask me that huh? You know---"

"I know. Alright? I miss him too. It's just…..Dad's sick."

"Your dad has been sick for years now and he shouldn't be surprised by it."

"No Abbie I mean I need money. Bad. Real bad."

"What are we talking here Joe."

"Operation costs. They gave him six months."

She claps a hand over her mouth. " _Joe,_ "

"He _can't_ train me."

"There's got to be someone else."

"No. It's gotta be you. I know you spent the most time with him I know---You know his moves. His holds. You watched my dad coach yours. Abbie if I'm gonna have any chance at this. It's gotta be you."

Abbie opens and closes her mouth. "No. No Joe I can't. No. Listen I'll talk to you later alright?"

she spins on her heel and begins marching home.

Works to fight the anxiety that flits through her system. She might be educated. She might be strong and pretty and living.

But half of her lived in a ring with her dad and that half died with him too. She'll be damned if she gives the ring anymore of herself. She already spends too many of her waking hours and sleeping ones there.

Even her footsteps sound like the stomps of the fans.

_Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills._

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

"Hey guys" Jenny announces herself as the bell dings over head. Starts making her way to the desk, dropping her bag. The walls here are decorated with sketches, pictures, shelves of charms and plants. There's incense burning today. Something distinctly herbal that makes her sneeze. That's always the way though. Her body always racks her with a fit like that when she enters, without fail, every time as if reminding her that she doesn't like fragrances. But it wears off, quickly as it comes. The sisters use to fuss about it and had stopped burning things for a week when she had first started, but being Wiccan and rather heavily immersed in their spiritual well being they had been very visibly disturbed without it. It calms them. Helps them focus.There's music on, something kind of earthy folk. Vaguely electronic."Hey Trina" 

 

Katrina Van Tassel looks up from the table where she's sketching. Dark wavy red tresses fall over her shoulder, a sharp contrast to the black ruffled blouse and corset she wears and the full tiered skirt. Jenny had raised a brow at Katrina and Pandora Van Tassel's neo gothic victorian garb when they'd first met, she preferred jeans, t shirts, functional comfy things herself. The occasional mini skirt. But it suits them, All of their mystery and whimsy. And  they're fun girls. Sometimes. 

 

"JenJen" she smiles, putting down her pencil. 

 

"What you working on?" Jenny asks, beginning to unpack her tools. 

 

"Shoulder piece. You like?" she asks, holding up the sheet of swirling curlicues, roses and winking eyes. 

 

"Full colour or black and white?"

 

She purses her lips. "Haven't decided yet. You got anyone today?"

 

"Eh. Guy ringed up yesterday. Cocky sounding bastard."

 

Katrina's laughter trills through the air. "Aren't they all?" 

 

Jenny cracks a smile. "Yeah. S'pose they are." 

 

* * *

 

 

" You wouldn't believe who I just ran into," Abbie calls as she shuts the door behind her. 

 

"Bet I would." Lori emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the dish towel. "August's boy?"

 

"The one and the same Baby Joe."

 

"You ever gonna stop teasing that him?"

 

"Nope," Abbie laughs, squeezing past her mother into the kitchen to filch one of the muffins that just came out the oven. 

 

"You know those weren't for you."

 

"And you know that you made a back up batch just in case. For this same reason." Abbie fires back and is rewarded with a glare as Lori shakes her head. 

 

"Too damn smart." she mutters as she begins packing the muffins away to refrigerate for the bakery. The one thing that has kept a roof over their heads.

* * *

 

Ezra Mills had owed Doctor Atticus Nevin's upwards of fifteen grand for the drugs he'd been taking, hard stuff, illegal stuff, for his pain from injuries and to enhance performance in desperate times. Not to mention the costs of his reports, checkups and visits. There had been a second mortgage on their house and Lori hadn't known. Not to mention general fees and travel costs and they'd been reckless with money in the beginning. Just floating. But he'd been the breadwinner, and everything sank after that. Foreclosure. The money they owed Nevins. 

The money it had cost them trying to sue him afterwards for malpractice---and that hadn't gone through---dirty Nevins had connections. 

There had been an awful rumour going round afterwards that Nevin's had wagered against Ezra in that last fight---they'd all tried hard not to contemplate anything further after that. 

He'd tried to be nice about it, the snake, while bleeding them dry. Didn't take all the money. Came around with groceries, early on. Paid the light bill. Invested in some scholarship funds, wayward little things that he might have suspected would end up awarded to the Mills girls. 

And this tentative truce could have stood a while longer. A gentle, bitter, grudging thing between the Mills women and this sketchy family acquaintance. 

Till he'd made a pass at Lori, three years later. Told her he could solve all her problems if she'd solve one of his. 

"I'm lonely Lori," he'd whispered, had her cornered in her own kitchen when he'd stopped by. "I know you must be too. Always told Ezra he'd be wise to be more careful. Stay around for a woman like you. He wouldn't listen."

She'd been making dinner when he'd crept up behind her, one hand to her shoulder other to her waist. The knife was already in hand. 

"Atticus Nevins."

"Lori Darling."

"You take your hands off me right now before you lose one," she'd managed, shaking with rage. "And you get out my house. GET OUT."

"Oh come on Lori don't be like that, I'll take care of you, you know I would."

"Last warning."

"Stop being unreason---damnit!" he'd reeled away, clutching the back of his hand where she'd sliced him. Lori had glared over her shoulder, grabbed a damp cloth and bandage, cursed him repeatedly, issued multiple warnings while she cleaned him up and had turned him out her door. 

"Don't you ever bring that to me again. You hear me? Ever." 

Lori had scrounged together what they had, invested fully in her bakery. "Always did want to do this." she'd admitted through teary eyes the day it opened. "Ezra said I stalled too long. Well. I've done it now baby."

Her specialty was a red velvet cake with strawberries and dark chocolate shavings. Ezra's favourite. The bakery is called "Mighty Fine" 

 

* * *

And it does well nowadays. They eat. Roof over their head, smaller than what they had, but there's a car that drives--Jenny takes it most days. Clothes on their backs. Life is….while not whole. Not bustling. There's a sort of peace. Two daughters and their mother, carrying on. 

"He says August's sick."

"He is." Lori concedes and Abbie turns to her mother. "I saw him…last week. Went to visit since they moved back. I told you that."

"Stayed away long enough why'd they figure coming back to Sleepy Hollow  now?"

"Because he wanted to be back home in his final days."

"Joe….Joe said six months.

"If that." Lori cuts in. "That's the max they gave him." 

"What's he got?"

"It's a cancer, I didn't get into details. He just wanted to be back with people he knows. Familiar faces." Lori meets eyes with her daughter. "Abbie?"

"Joe wants to get into fighting."

Lori's hands still, ever so imperceptibly before she begins moving again, voice measured and controlled. "Chicken fighting?" she asks lightly.

"LIke dad. In the ring. He says….he says he needs the money. Some operation."

"What'd you tell him?"

"I can't go back there. I still can't. One thing to reminisce in the gym but, train Joe?"

"He used to joke about it, you know. Your father. saying things like, 'Imagine if my girls became legends? a team? or coaches? You know I bet Jenny would be dynamite in the ring, and Abbie would manage her. Look out for her. Way Corbin looks out for me."

"That was dad day dreaming because he didn't have boys."

"Your father loved you girls."

"I'm not gonna argue that but you know he didn't mean anything by it. And he certainly never meant for me to coach Joe Corbin in a sport that could cost him his life." she spits angrily, shocked by the emotion that wells up in her voice. 

"I would never push you, Abbie. But August did his best by us when he could. Took care of your father. Us."

"Then he took off and left us here with Nevin's slinking around."

Lori slams her hand on the table"The world didn't stop turning when your father died _**damn it**_ Abbie mine spun off its axis. He got an opportunity. And he took it. Same way I told you girls to take the chances you got. You're both still here and power to you if this is where your happiness lies. You got one life to live, live it for yourself. But I'm not going to let you judge the man for chasing after something. Your father would have done the same."

"And he's dead for it." Abbie snaps. "Dreaming got dad debt, addiction, injury, shady friends, and death."

"And dreaming kept us afloat." Lori replies, looking at her eldest meaningfully. "Not all aspirations are bad ones, Abbie. You can't turn your back on chances for success, for fulfillment, thinking they're gonna destroy you. Sometimes they will. Sometimes they won't." she turns back to the counter, begins washing dishes. "All I'm saying is….you grew up with those two in your lives. If you can't you can't, but consider, that you might help them."

 

* * *

 

He's back in the ring two days later when she stops by. "Hey! Abbie!"

"Baby Joe," 

"You're gonna ruin me with that, you know that right?"

"Oh, I don't know. Could be a good fighting name. You'd be the fan favourite. Their darling."

"What're you saying Mills?"

Abbie takes  a deep shuddering breath, approaches the ring and hauls herself in. "Well, come on. Before I change my mind."


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

_"ONE TWO, ONE TWO, ONE TWO,"_

_Heavy breathing. Thudding impact._

_"Come on Ezra ONE TWO, ONE TWO,"  and then a jab back in retaliation. Catches his jaw. He growls._

_"Don't mess me around Corbin"_

_"You gotta be precise, you gotta be alert. ONE TWO!"_

* * *

 

"ONE TWO," Punch punch. "ONE TWO," Punch punch. "ONE TWO," 

HIt. Hit. Hit. 

"DON'T WASTE MY TIME CORBIN COME ON! ONE TWO" Abbie bellows, bracing for the impact of Joe Corbins hands slamming into the padded mitts she wears.  "COME ON CORBIN" she grunts when he connects, feet sliding, sweat dripping off her brow. Joe's face is read, a flush that spreads all the way across his chest. They've been at it two weeks now. She tried him out sparring with couple nights ago. Unlike her, Jenny still comes to the ring to practice, not ruminate on the past the way Abbie does. Jenny took him down too fast. 

The deal is she gets him past this beginner match, then he's going to have to do the footwork to find someone else to carry him the rest of the way. But she'll give him all she's got for now. As much as she has to give. "Hit me like you mean it Baby Joe!"

"What." _Punch_ "Have I told you." _Boom_ _boom boom_. "About calling." _Hit_ . "Me" _One two_. "That." _One two one two one two three._

"Whoohoohoo!" Abbie laughs as the hits land and she can feel the tremor of them all the way down her arms, throwing her balance at last. "That's what gets to ya eh? Whooo. Let's call it a day I need to cool off for my shift later." she throws the gloves off, shakes her hands out and pushes the damp strands off her forehead. 

Joe doubles over, heaving. "Shit"

"Yeah," Abbie agrees, chugging water from her bottle and throwing it to him. "Yeah this is the kinda voluntary sick inducing nonsense you're signing up for."

"I told you---"

"Yeah yeah. You got a reason to fight. They always do. But reasons don't keep your bones intact or spare you the injuries. Don't look at me like that. I'm here aren't I?"

He nods. "You are. And I'm grateful for that really am."

"Well act like it. Come at me harder next time. We don't have time to get comfy and build up. And I'm not sticking around after this match. We clear?" 

"Crystal." 

"Good. Go shower." she wrinkles her nose. "You stink." 

__

* * *

 

"Your show starts in half an hour. You need to be in makeup," Danny scolds as she bursts through the dressing room door where the other performers are slicking their hair and plastering shimmering eyeshadow across their lids. 

 

At Sleepy Hollow Marine Park. They take these performances, very seriously. They audition their talents. Work them hard. And while they're not olympic level professionals, they've earned a reputation for a certain amount of pizzazz. Flash and flair. Enough technique to make them a hot tourist spot. The Park owner has floated the idea around, very tentatively, that one day they might take the 'Mermaids of Sleepy Hollow' on tour of their own.

An aquatic act, from city to city, like Disney on Ice, like Cirque du Soleil. They laugh most of the time when the suggestion arises. They sure don't have the budget for it. The travel costs, costuming, advertising, no, they're lucky that Caroline---sweet faced girl with a surprising penchant for bad boys---voluntarily makes their costumes for her own portfolio. 

 

Bottom line though. Their performances are a production, and Abbie will modestly acquiesce, that she is, for this troop, the star. 

"Sorry I'm late Danny."

"Just get that tail on and braid your hair. You need help with your tail?"

"I've got it Danny."

* * *

 

"Welcome to Sleepy Hollow Marine Park! Thank you for coming to visit with us today! Here to greet you and entertain you are the mysterious beautiful mythical creatures of the deep. The stuff of dreams and of the sea, the Mermaids of Sleepy Hollow!" 

The team of them dive in from the far end, out of sight of the audience and begin all swimming swiftly forward, as the music surges around them, crescendoing until they reach the barrier right before the first row of seats and break the surface enthusiastically. Waving and cheering. Danny announces each one of them and ends with her, their star.

 "Mighty Abigail Mills! The Queen of the Sea. The Enchantress of the watery depths!" 

She's already taken off into her tricks while he makes this introduction, splashing and waving and escaping into the wild energy of the crowd. 

_"There's nothing like that rush girls. All those people come to see you. To cheer for you. Can't describe what it does to you inside."_  

_Oh, but I get the gist dad_ , she thinks wistfully as she swims around her peers. They leap they dart, they lift and spin and delight. With adrenaline and excitement coursing through her as she flicks her tail, Abbie wonder's how far she's really come after all. There's so much of her father that stays with her, even now. 

She remembers the pain and devastation that his dreams had brought them after he passed, and hopes that's not something she's inherited too. 

The storyline is that she goes searching for a lost gem that's been stolen from her people but an evil sea king has squirrelled it away, and then tries to hold her hostage. They engage in a daring battle, and Danny encourages the audience to cheer for her, to give her strength to defeat her enemy. 

"Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills"

She swims harder. Spinning, turning, arms out, disturbing the water like a small tempest. 

"Mighty Mighty Mighty Mills"

The speaker crackles with booms and cracks, as she beats back the sea king, throwing punches that never connect until the last one, a love tap, practically, to her opponents face. She catches his smirk before he reels back, defeated. They've done this a thousand times now. If not more. It's like a game. The crowd roars. 

"She has defeated the evil Sea King! Mighty Abigail Mills is Victorious! Welcome her home from her journey!"

A well choreographed, memorized dance, and she leaps exultantly out of the water, deliberately spraying the front row; the children squeal in delight. Applause surrounds them, the other team members swim up, taking their bows.  They raise her hands up in triumph. 

"MIGHT-Y MILLS, MIGHT-Y MILLS" 

And it's like she's never left the ring at all. 

 

* * *

 

"Just like we practiced, keep them quick, keep them sharp. No showboating." 

"No showboating," Jenny echoes behind the stage where Abbie is rubbing Joe's shoulders, giving him a pep talk. "Life is funny eh? This…" Jenny shakes her head, brushes her hair back. "Takes me back. You Abs?"

"I know." she says, trying not to let the circumstance do just that. 

"I mean who'd have ever thought."

"Roles are reversed." Joe says, cracking a smile and inhaling. "Use to be a Corbin coaching a Mills. Now it's the other way around."

"Not for long. You should catch somebody's eye out there tonight. Someone to take you off my hands." 

"You know I seem to remember us all being friends."

"I seem to remember us all being friends" Jenny mimics and Joe reaches to swat at her. 

"Hell we're family Joe. You know that. Just….fight hard, okay?" she says instead, "Fight hard."

He slams his fists together. "I don't got a choice right now do I."

"Nope. So don't embarrass me."

"Baby Joe?" an attendant calls.  Joe groans. 

"It'll catch on and you'll thank me." she whispers. "Besides, if it helps rile you up, I see only an upside to this. Go get 'im, Baby Joe."

Ding

One feral roar. 

His opponent gives him pause. He's huge.

Six feet, easily. 

Broad. Muscles upon muscles and a look in his eye like he would _really_ _truly_ enjoy breaking Joe's nose. He staggers back instead of going forward and it gives him away. 

"Tonight we have Baby Joe Corbin, son of renown coach August Corbin tonight facing off with Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt."

"Tell us about 'em Axel" 

"Baby Joe grew up around the ring, watching his father work with Ezra Mighty Mills"

"Mean ole man."

"The two of em. Looks like Baby Joe is out to continue a family tradition. His coach is here tonight, daughter of _the_ Ezra, Abigail Mills."

She cringes next to Jenny when she hears her name come over the speaker. They'd asked for the info to register but she hadn't counted on being announced. 

"Abraham Van Knock Out is a brawler from England."

"Cheerio!"

"He's here with manager Ichabod Crane,"

"This is first match of the season for them tonight for both of them and oh--looks like Van Knock Out is out to make a name for himself tonight"

 

"Come on Joe!" Jenny shrieks as he covers his head from blow after blow.

Abbie turns her back. _I can't watch_ _this,_ she thinks, _I can't watch this._

"Come on!" Jenny yells when he backs up in the corner, gone completely into defence.

Abbie turns back and looks over the opponent proper. 

 

"You know, in fact, you might recognize Van Knock Out, he was here on a visiting match when he'd just started out, nearly ten years ago. He was swift back then. Lethal but he had a bad match, coincidentally, with Ezra Mills, and it threw a shadow on him for a while."

"The name of legend killer was too heavy a mantle to bare at the time. But I suspect he's grown into it now. Ouch."

The world stills. _Those eyes._

* * *

 

_His opponent backs up, hands raised in the air, a look of horror on his face._

_"I didn't mean"_

* * *

 

 

Anger, savage and wild tears through her. "GET UP. GET YOUR ASS UP NOW BABY JOE." 

The world swimming in his vision, he barely rights himself before another blow strikes true. 

"BA-BY JOE" 

"WAH WAH"

"BA-BY JOE"

"WAH WAH"

He swings, just for the sake of swinging and misses, just as his rival dances out of reach but it carries him forward one step, another, embarrassment colouring his ears. 

"Baby?" Abraham taunts in between jabs, which Joe finally begins to block effectively. "Do you want your mother?" 

A roar escapes him and he sees the moment when shock registers on Abraham's face. 

"Does baby want his bottle?" he whispers, mouth curling into a sneer before Joe catches him square in the jaw. 

"BA-BY JOE"

"WAH WAH"

"BA-BY JOE"

"WAH WAH"

"YOU GET HIM" Abbie screams. "GET HIM DON"T LET UP" 

_Be quick. Be precise_. The words thrum in his mind as he gets his second wind.

One two. One two. One two.

The crowd roars. The cheer turns from a taunt to a wild show of support. People are standing. 

_That bastard_. Abbie thinks. She remembers him now. The way he'd come after her father in his last match, the one that would end his life. They never even considered calling it murder. Said it was due to Ezra's previous injury, impact had been too much. Something inside had ruptured. And here he was again, out to ruin another life, another career. Another family. Not while she draws breath. 

"come on baby," she whispers fiercely. Beside her Jenny's eyes are wide as she watches the two of them match blow for blow, both of their faces are red, breathing hard, looking unsteady on their feet. Joe's burst of energy had caught Abraham off guard, he'd winded himself in his opening onslaught and now is just keeping pace. But he's still standing, and Abbie doubts Joe can take him down. He's got too much height, too much power. The shouting and stomping is deafening.

"Take him _out_ Abraham" a voice calls, distinct in its cultured drawl. Abbie's eyes hunt for the possessor  of that voice and lands on a lean, tall man on the other side. Arms folded. Trim neat beard. Short hair. Shirt sleeves rolled up and glasses balanced on his nose. 

He clearly doesn't belong here. But it's his eagle eyed blue gaze, steely and calculating that begs the contrary. The muscle that ticks in his jaw as he watches the two men spar. The flexing and gripping of his own fingers into his biceps. 

"Take him down!" he yells again. "Give the baby his bottle and wrap it up"

She glares daggers at him. She feels automatically hostile towards him. Do you know, she wants to ask, that he once killed a man? destroyed a legend? with one lucky punch? do you know what kind of monster he's become? 

Because one thing is certain, while he may have been quick and nimble, and powerful sure, even apologetic, back then, it was clear that Abraham was now hardened and tough, had come to embrace his power and thrive on it. Probably likes the sound of bone crunching beneath his fist. 

The bell dings, snapping her out of her reverie. "Who won?" she asks Jenny, tugging her arm vigourously. "Who won?"

"They called it a draw. They were going too long. But he did good eh? Our baby. Our Baby Joe. Whoo!" she laughs as Joe lumbers out to them, throwing his arms around both sisters. 

"Gods Wounds." 

"He's a tough kid," Abraham chortles, as he makes his way towards them. Abbie tenses. "Two more minutes I'd have had 'im" he grins. He's kinder looking up close, but Abbie can't help but see red when she looks at him. 

"Good show." the out of place man appears at his side, hands a towel over to Abraham to mop sweat off his back and he gives Joe a once over. "First fight?"

Joe doesn't answer, grimaces instead. Brave face aside, she knows Joe hadn't been prepared for _that_. 

"Who wants to know." Abbie pipes up at last, stepping between them and staring up at the man. He looks down at her, something crosses his face that she can't decide whether it's intrigue or amusement. Or both. His gaze is too hot.

"Ichabod Crane. Abraham's coach and manager."

"Coach?" she asks skeptically. "You fight?"

"Don't underestimate me, Madam, we've just met. And you are?"

"Abbie Mills."

Abraham's face falters. "You don't mean for Ezra do you?"

"Who else?"

"Listen I---"

"Save it. You did what you did. You are what you are. You'll get what's coming to you."

" _Hey_ I never meant to---"

"Abraham. It seems to me the lady is far to riled up for polite conversation. Besides I'm sure whatever score you have to settle can be dealt with in due time."

"Oh? What makes you so sure."

"We're going for that tidy championship coming up." Crane confides, bending down to be at level with her. "I mean given his spunk, I wouldn't mind taking on another fighter. Can't keep all my eggs in one basket."

Behind her, Joe perks up, this is what they'd been banking on of course but before they can discuss it Abbie answers swiftly instead. Surprising herself with her reply. "Joe ain't going nowhere. He's with me. I've got him."

"In which case, Miss Mills," he demurs, eyes twinkling at her as if he finds all of this to be a charming game. "You haven't seen the last of us. _You_ haven't seen the last of _me_ ," he promises and patting Abraham on the shoulder they leave.

Abbie's fists are clenched and she is shaking with rage. "That's him." she grinds out. "That's….that's the punk who got dad. From his last match."

Jenny goes ashen. "Well he's grown into himself hasn't he."

"Abbie, Jenny," Joe begins. "I'm….I'm so sorry."

"No. _He's_ gonna be sorry. You're gonna destroy him Joe. You're gonna ruin all comers, and when you fight him again, you're taking him DOWN, and you're gonna get that money for your dad's operation."

And I'm gonna get some vindication for what he did to mine. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"How was Joe's fight?" Katrina asks the next day when Jenny goes in. 

"Good. I mean, he's alive. Banged up though. Didn't hang around though, the air was too…..heavy."

Katrina frowns, looking up from the back she's working on, wiping away excess ink. "Coffee later?"

Jenny smiles gratefully at her. "Yeah. thanks."

"Ladies," Pandora greets as she sweeps toward the front  desk, ringing through the customer she just attended to. 

"Well come on girlie give us a twirl," Jenny encourages and the girl smiles gleefully and her and Katrina gasp appreciatively.  Pandora's mouth curls into a slow smile of pride. 

"I didn't know you could get gem stone corsets. Since when do we do that?" Jenny asks in awe. 

The girl laughs happily, turning her legs around in the mirror to admire the matching set of leg corset piercings that go along the backs of her upper thighs, double laced with red and pink ribbon, the rings glittering with sparkling stones and little charms threaded on to the ribbons dance and catch the sun. "It's beautiful," she assures the customer and she gushes.

"Thanks, it's for a shoot later, but I'm so ready to show these off tonight." 

"She was very adult about it," Pandora says fondly, voice quiet and stealthy. Everything Pandora says comes across like a sort of proclamation. Or like the confidences of a mob boss. And if you've met her boyfriend, you'd understand the comparison. "Didn't cry once, sweet girl. Enjoy them," she smiles softly and the customer pays and sashays out, confident and proud. 

"You out did yourself there," Jenny whistles. 

"I keep telling you they're not as bad as they sound. And they don't last, Let me give you a set. One leg. Eight piercings."

"Double lacings?"

"Well, sixteen."

"Hah!" Jenny laughs. "Hah! but no. Nope."

"I've never met a tattoo artist this squeamish about piercings, have you Trina?"

Katrina snickers as she goes back to the client she's working on. "Can't say I have Dora."

"Tattoos make sense, lasting artwork, that? it stays for a week at max? money lost." 

"Mills," Pandora warns playfully. "That's my trade you're badmouthing over there. Anyway, come back here, I wanna do a couple on my wrist and I need someone to hold me still"

"You're a sadist." 

"Even so." she laughs as Jenny trails behind her.  Just as she settles down on the stool and Pandora extends her hand, rambling around with her free one for her  silver dermals and the instrument that looks like a pliers when a familiar voice calls to the back. 

"Pandora,"

A shiver goes down Jenny's spine. He's not a bad man, she thinks, but he carries around with him a heavy, foreboding presence. Not to mention the eerie amber of his eyes. 

"Harmon" She answers, rising and gliding easily back out to him. He crushes her in his dark arms. He has a similarly strange aesthetic. Wears sleeveless shirts and bands around his arms, but heavy boots and tattoos sprawling up his arm. Not the sisters work, but the cartilage piercing Pandora gave him some weeks ago. Jenny doesn't ask what he does for a living, only knows that the sisters become a little hush hush when he's around. "I brought you a gift darling," his voice rumbles through the room and Jenny watches Katrina's hand still entirely as a shiver goes through her. She rubs a hand soothingly over the client she's working on. Harmon Odesu  can't help it, there's something just inherently, spooky, about him.  Pandora accepts the gift  gratefully. 

"Oh, these, thank you, it's so hard to get these in gold. Jenny!"

"What's up. Harmon"

"Jennifer,"

"Look, gold dermals. Just in time, I was just going to give myself a few." 

"Yay," Jenny coos, unenthused. Harmon's mouth quirks in amusement of Jenny's standoffishness. He gets a special sort of delight out of seeing how uncomfortable he makes people. Barely knowing him they can sense he's not one to be trifled with. 

"How has your apprenticeship been fairing?"

"Well." Jenny nods hurriedly. "Very well."

"Beloved," he addresses Pandora. "Is she skilled enough to etch designs into my skin?"

The air stills. 

Katrina clears her throat politely. "Jenny's good. Had a guy in here last week couldn't stop raving about her."

"Very well." he turns that eerie gaze on her. "I would like a tattoo, Jennifer Mills. The name of my beloved."

"Harmon"

Jenny scoffs and his brows shoot to his forehead.  "It's cliched," she explains, nervous under his scrutiny. 

"I'd rather you didn't." Pandora cuts in. "I don't own you and you don't own me. Tattoo things worth celebrating, Harmon." 

"I thought perhaps  it was time the fledgling be challenged."

"I'm challenged plenty." Jenny says, flapping a hand in the air. "No challenged un….taken, here."

He smiles. "At the behest of my beloved I shall refrain. I won't be home later," he says confidentially to Pandora and exhaling a breath Jenny looks over at Katrina who seems to mirror her look of relief that he'll be leaving soon. "I am in….high demand."

"Be safe," she replies, and then he is gone and everyone seems able to breathe again. 

"He's so damn creepy," Jenny mutters and is surprised when Pandora claps her hands together and laughs. 

"He is, isn't he. We're perfectly suited. Come on, These will be so pretty when I'm done, I'm sure you'll want one."

"Like hell I will."

* * *

 

"Eh, what's that?" Abbie asks when she meets up with her and Joe at the gym later. She points to the spot just below her collar bone  where glitters a little dot of gold. "Is that permanent?"

"Pandora swears not." 

Jenny was dismayed to find she did think the gold was ' _quite pretty'_ as Pandora had described it after Pandora had finished giving herself a star design on her wrist, during which Jenny had fought the urge to throw up. One thing to get pierced. Another to watch someone pull and pluck and screw things into _THEMSELVES._

Abbie leans in, squinting, brow furrowed. "Pretty." 

"That's what talked me into it. Sheer vanity."

"Oh you've gotten into worse trouble I'm sure with less to blame than 'sheer vanity'" Joe cajoles. 

"Like boredom," Abbie joins in and ducks the playful swing Jenny aims at her head. 

"You guys just wrapping up?"

"Yeah, he's too sore to go for much tonight. Don't say I didn't warn you. Take another day and we'll get back to it." 

* * *

 

It seems too soon to be at another fight night but there they are. If they had thought Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt had been bad, they had been mistaken.  

The thing had been so brutal Abbie hadn't even had the heart to demand Joe get up. Instead she had been pleading internally for him to stay down. 

But up he went. Stubborn, green, fool. 

Looking like a damn idiot, throwing punches at thin air while the crowd jeered at him. His opponent dodging and weaving and getting a few in his ribs. She doesn't like that it seems he needs to go to a certain point of almost nothing in order for him to start getting his bearings to fight back.

Like he _needs_   a good throttling to justify beating the guy up. 

But, "My God," Abbie's breath leaves her as she watches him. "My. God." she thinks when he gets his wits about him and the blows come quick, hard and angry. "Good," she nods. "Good." 

"Let's go Baby Joe" a spectator crows and she smiles as a few more pick up the chant. 

"Come on Corbin, come on." she jerks involuntarily with every hit he takes, and then shuffles her body miming his punches too. 

"He's got spark this one eh. Baby Joe's second match and he is still clearly ailing from his run in with Van Knock Out last week, but he seems to really be on to something here."

"You see that combination there? Now is that School of August Corbin or Vintage Ezra Mills?"

"I don't know Axel I'd say it's something new entirely. It's got a bit of both, but that ferocity comes from young blood, I'd bet money on newcomer coach Abbie." 

"Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember seeing her around this ring when Ezra fought."

"Whole family use to come Axel. Think fighting is in their blood."

"Well it's catching. Look at Joe go, ooh. That's gonna hurt in the morning."

"Him or Joe?"

"Both, you'd feel a punch like that down your whole arm"

Eyes trained ahead of her she gets the too warm feeling that she's being watched. She takes her eyes off the ring for that split second to check over her shoulder and suddenly the air lifts with an electrified roar. When she turns back, Joe's laid out flat. "Damn it." she curses, face hot as the victor leaves and she has to go scrambling in the ring to wake him up. "Ooh you're gonna be ugly come morning" she mutters, tapping his face. "Come on, it's too early for you to quit on me."

" _Gimme a minute_ " he groans, eyes scrunched tight. When he opens them he wishes he hadn't. "Stop moving"

"I'm being perfectly still."

"Well why are there two of you."

"You might want to have him checked out," comes a familiar voice. She squints in the lighting and catches sight of him outside the ring. He's wearing a hat. Indoors. 

"No one asked you."

"Just saying I've seen blows like those and if he's concussed it'll be dangerous for him to fight again. One sportsman to another Miss Mills. Get him to a doc"

She knows he's right. She grew up seeing things like this of course, but they haven't got a sport physician yet. She's just gonna have to put ice on that bump and watch him through the night. Doctor first thing come morning. She begins to heave Joe to his feet. 

"Let me help."

"Not needed and unwanted….what they call you again?"

"Ichabod Crane."

"Crane. We're good here, alright?"

"You know Miss Mills I don't believe rivals within the ring warrants hostility outside of it."

She glares at him. "You don't know anything about what's at stake here. Get the whole picture before you try making nice with me." 

* * *

 

Nevin's puffs on a cigar while he waits. The HO, what they like to call Harmon Odesu, is a real old school type class A thug. He loves the cloak and dagger and intrigue and complex networks. Not a trigger happy man, no. Wants the money. Manipulate if it suits him. And trade, of course. Trades the good stuff, bad stuff, high value worth stuff.  Likes to travel on foot. Finds cars and license plates too conspicuous. And don't get on his bad side. Don't ask anyone how they know that, but it's the kind of conclusion you come to when people just vanish. 

"Atticus Nevins"

"HO" Nevins greets, shaking hands with him. They've been working together long enough now, on and off. And mostly, he manages to keep Harmon on the perimeters of what he uses the drugs and meds for. Certainly, it doesn't do either of them any favours to know those sorts of details anyway. 

Oh, he's gotten stuff that quells pain, sure. Couple drugs that give them too much speed, too much adrenaline. And a few, just high dosage enough that under due stress, can actually cause internal damage. And believe it or not, those come in handy. 

Very handy if he can guess the outcome of a fight, and bet accordingly. Positive things will go his way. The hand off is sly and easy and Nevin's stays on the corner smoking a while longer after the HO leaves. Enjoying the night air. 

But before the night is done he drops by the apartment of his newest client. "Open up" he bellows. A groan before Abraham opens the door. 

"Heard that Corbin kid gave you what for, first match. You ain't fight tonight?" he pushes past Abraham and ambles over to his couch. 

"He's swift. Ezra's kid is coaching him."

Nevin's pauses. He hasn't even thought of the name 'Mill's since Lori had rebuffed him. "Huh."

"You used to work with him didn't you?"

"And now I look after  you. Oh, and I got you something."

"I don't---"

"Don't be an idiot. Punk kid Corbin comes out of the wood works and way I hear it you nearly lose. You wanna last here? Not have a cloud over your head like last time? You take the damn gift I'm giving you. Small doses. Doesn't have to be anything steady. It'll help you bulk up…..more." he adds, surveying Abraham's already built exterior. "Put some pep in your step. Where's your lesser half?"

"Here, Master Nevins."

Atticus rolls his eyes and Ichabod sidles into the room. "Was just checking out your star here. Left something there for him." he claps Crane on the shoulder and leaves. 

"So?" Abraham asks.

"The Mills protege was up again tonight. Got the thrashing you couldn't give him. Went down hard."

"Between you and Nevin's my confidence is through the roof."

Crane works his mouth. "Bad night, that was all. Beginners luck he was still standing. And with a manager like that--hollering the way she does with such, venom, one must find it somewhat inspiring."

"Oh hell. Really? you're not really considering it are you?

"Considering what?" Crane faux frowns. 

"You're interested. One meeting and---"

"Fires always draw people in for warmth."

"And you're frightfully cold these days are you?"

Crane thinks briefly on the absolute fire in those dark brown eyes. "Absolutely _freezing_." 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie gets Joe home after his match. Vulnerable moment. 
> 
> Joe thinks he's slick. Awkward. 
> 
> Hey look it's Irving.
> 
> Unwelcome visitors at Mighty Fine Bakery.

"When did you get so heavy" Abbie grumbles as she hauls Joe up his front steps. 

"You have no mercy on a man's pride do you. Even wounded"

"Get in the house," He fumbles with the keys and with a grunt of frustration Abbie wrestles them away from him. 

"Easy," he coaxes. "Dad's asleep."

She huffs and inserts the key in the lock, turning it as softly and quietly as she can, swings the door open, kicking off her shoes as she steps inside and holding the door for Joe as he kicks off his own and bends, swaying slightly to retrieve them. 

"Whoa whoa," she reaches to steady him. 

"I'm fine," he hisses, moving slowly and carefully down the hall, Abbie tip toeing behind him. There are still boxes packed up in the living room, like an interrupted warehouse. 

"Go lie down. I'll get some ice. You want anything?" she asks. Joe shakes his head and continues to lumber away from her turning a left to what must be his room. "The things I get myself into," she mutters as she grabs the ice pack and a glass of water, pausing to dial home. "Hey mom? yeah I---no he got a good knock in the head---no I don't think it's---yeah well I'm gonna stay with him cause we don't have a doc on hand and all that time in emergency---I honestly don't think it's anything, but I'm gonna get him in to see someone in the morning. Jenny home? Okay good. Yeah I'll call you. He'll be fine, just, banged up." Turning with ice pack in one hand, water in the other, Abbie  navigates the dark walks ways and all it's treacherous obstacles until she's outside Joe's room, the door left ajar. She bumps it with her hip, letting herself in. She blinks at him. "Hell."

 

There's some reddish areas around his side that look tempted to give him trouble. And the way he's hunched over just doesn't make her feel any better. "Lie down, come on," setting the items in hand on the nightstand she swings his feet up in the bed, to much protest, and helps wrangle him into a t-shirt, with much wincing and grumping to go with that too, pushes him back on his pillows, and then, hunting around for a towel, opts for the recently discarded shirt instead---rather than make a racket trying to find their linen closet--she wraps that around the pack and sits on the edge of the bed beside him and places it against his forehead. Although his cheek looks rough too. He hisses with the coldness of it.

"Ssssh" she soothes. "The temptation is strong Joe. To tell you to abandon this? Very strong."

 

"It's early." he replies. "You're not giving us a fair chance."

"I don't know if I have enough to teach you to deal with this."

"What about my dad? What about Van Knock Out?"

"What about your health?" she shoots back, quickly irritated with him. "The fighters are bigger. The hits are heavier. And you're….." _not_. she thinks. _You're not them_.

He grips her hand that lays on the side of the bed. "But they don't have you. I do."

"You're putting too much faith in me,"

"Hey, I held my ground in there,"

"After he basically threatened to beat you to a pulp. What's with that huh? It's like you give them a free pass for the first five minutes and see how close they can get to bludgeoning you before you fight back"

"I'm still new,"

"So am _I_ " it tears from her, raw, open. I have no place in this, the thought quickly surfaces. Dad had weeks, months, years, to train before leaping into things like this. He had a community to learn from, and the opponents weren't this brutal. "I'm still new to this and you have a lot of expectations of what two newbies can do against people who have been training to get themselves ready for even these basic entry matches."

"I thought we were gonna take them down. Win the money."

Money money money. The root of all evil. "You need to get it together." she concludes swiftly. "You need to start going in guns blazing and make this worth your while. I'm not gonna put hours in to watch them liquify you out there. Understood?" 

He shifts, rolling onto his side. "Next one I'll win. Promise. How do I look?"

"Honestly?"

"I change my mind." he rolls onto his back. Quirks his mouth, gaze sliding towards her. "You know, guys used to talk about wishing they could have a Mills girl in their room. No seriously," he smiles, wincing slightly. "Between you and Jenny, you could have had run of the field. Half their girlfriends were jealous of you two."

"Well I guess they'd be jealous of you right now eh?" she laughs. "Don't think they'd envy you these bruises though, Baby Joe," she coos playfully, moving the ice down to his cheek. 

"That damn name"

"The people like it."

"Do I look like a baby to you?"

Abbie pointedly looks him over, bruising and swelling "Baby that looks like you do right now I'd call Child Protective Services."

Joe cuts his eye at her. 

"No Joe you….you look alright. Handsome profile when it doesn't have an egg growing on the forehead. You got, you know, those broad shoulders and muscles and nonsense. You're a man Joe, anyone can see that." her eyes twinkle. "Know what Jenny and I first noticed when you were going through your change? How you shot up overnight. I was mad at you about that one," she jokes. "Everyone else got the spurt but me," 

"I think it's a national service you came in a contained package. Imagine a full sized Abbie Mills, with all that strong silent sass."

"Alliteration," she raises a brow. "Impressive." 

"Hey I was A plus in english."

"Sure." she sets down the ice and hands him his water. "How you feeling?"

"Well there's only one of you now, I'd call that improvement." 

"Too bad, I liked having a twin."

Shaking his head he takes a swig and hands it back to her. "I think we need to change strategy though." she says. "Switch up your regimen, new diet."

"Dad told me this is what happens when a woman comes into your life,"

"It's gotta be you, you know the holds, it's gotta be you, Remember that? And I'm giving you everything I got,"

"Not everything,"

Abbie cocks her head to the side. "You wanna try that again?"

"I'm just kidding with you Abbie. Geez. As if that could ever go anywhere." 

She frowns. "He might have hit you harder than I thought." 

"Really? Really? I had a crush on you way back alright?"  

"Hah. You should've said something. You might have had a chance back then. Let you hold my hand for five seconds even." 

"Just back then?"

Abbie meets his gaze, assessing. Leans in to brush his brow. "To me, Corbin, inside the ring or outside of it, you're always gonna be Baby Joe." Of all the times for Joe to be swift, he chooses then. His lips glance off hers so quick all she can do is blink in shock. 

"Always wanted to do that."

"You ever pull that again I will knock you so far into the future you will miss the birth of your own grandchild,"

 

Joe's grin is something she wants to slap off his face and laugh along with at the same time. She pulled that once on a boy she liked back in middle school, but she'd really genuinely liked him. And he'd liked her back. They'd 'dated' solidly for almost a month. Consistent homework dates and showing up to each others events. Grasping handshakes and pecks on the cheek the absolute extent of their affection.

Jenny on the other hand had developed a sly and disturbing knack for sneaking a squeeze of a guys behind.  

 

"That was your freebie alright, that's it. We're done there, clear? You got that out your system?"

"Ahh geez Mills you still get worked up so easily?" he teases and her face feels hot. Yes, because Abbie has never taken shows of affection, things like kisses and copped feels lightly. 

Has never been the sort who just lets herself get close like that, not seeing how her father loved her mother. Not after the devastation of losing her father. No, she believes connections like that need to be special, nurtured, contained, mutual. Flirtations are not a game to her. She doesn't even have 'flirtations'. 

"I do, and you're gonna pay for that tomorrow. What, I'm not going easy on you because you got a boo boo tonight, once you get checked out we're going for a run. Your hands are fast, but your legs are too slow." she shifts off the bed and throws herself in the chair by his desk. "If you think you're dying wake me," she calls, before yawning exaggeratedly, crossing her ankles and folding her arms, she closes her eyes. 

"Night Coach."

The smallest smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Damn fool"

 

* * *

 

Sunlight streams in through the windows and Abbie jolts awake, disoriented and panicked before remembering where she is and then stretches trying to get the crick out of her neck from sleeping upright. "Hey sunshine," she calls, tugging Joe's foot. "Come on get dressed I'm taking you to a clinic"

He grumbles a curse and turns over. Pursing her lips Abbie scans the room, finds the half full glass of water and dashes it on him. 

"Shit!" Joe gasps, eyes snapping open. 

"Uh huh. Get up." she instructs, letting herself out the room and headed to the kitchen, stealthily as she can manage to grab a glass of orange juice.

"I know what you're up to." 

She chokes and meets eyes with August Corbin sitting at the kitchen table. Lord, how'd she miss him. 

"August," she starts, coughs to clear her passageway. "It's not…I'm not…." she begins to explain, knowing full well what this must look like to him. Girl sashaying out of his sons room in her clothes from the night before. Hell she knows what she would think. Not to mention she's walking home, having driven Joe's ride last night. 

August raises his brows, encouraging her to go on in her floundering explanation before he begins to laugh. Her heart constricts. 

It's nothing like the laugh she grew up hearing when he used to joke around with her father. Not the robust jovial thing that came from deep within him when he would tease and play with her and Jenny. He used to play Santa Claus for them. No, his laugh is thin and reedy now. There are bags under his eyes and there's a….smallness to him. 

"Come here girl," and she goes, into his arms, shocked that she begins crying. He's the secondary father figure. Until him and Joe had left town, he was the connection to Ezra. "You look good Mills. How's your sister?"

"Good, August, she's, she tattoos."

"No surprise there, wild spirit that one. And you?"

Somehow saying she entertains tourists for a living, to the man that used to sneak her to her fathers fights, who witnessed her and Jenny becoming little expert tyrants themselves, makes her feel a little small. "I swim." she says instead. She's not ashamed of her job. But most people can't make the leap from fighter's daughter to mermaid entertainer. He nods as if he understands when he clearly doesn't, but she always did love that about him. He was never the sort to push. 

"You alright August?"

"I woke up this morning." He grins. "I'm fine. But look, I mean it, I know what you're up to. Heard you and the boy come in last night."

She swallows. 

"I don't know what that son of mine has told you, but you need to stop of it. The ring isn't what I wanted for my boy, wasn't what Ezra wanted for you girls. It was a means to an end. That's all. I won't argue you might have a…. gift, for it, growing up how you did but---you don't just walk away from that world. Do you hear me? You don't have a good run and just get out. That's not how they play. People get invested. Get involved. Deals are made, money changes hands, You owning the fight and the ring starts owning you."

"He's doing it for you, August."

"And you?"

Abbie doesn't meet his eyes. "You're family." she says, simply.

"Family doesn't let family do stupid shit." August says sharply, and then his face goes soft. "Don't hurt my boy, Abbie."

"Little late for that you should see his face."

"Surface scars aren't anything. It's the internals. The wounds that don't heal. The ones that bleed." he says meaningfully and her eyes sting. He's talking about her dad, she knows it, and she hates him a little bit for drawing the comparison. 

"I can't make your minds up for you, but please. Don't, do this."

"How long you got August?"

He turns away from her abruptly, fingers drumming on the table. "As long as God wants me to have" he grunts. 

Joe saunters out then, a cheery looking mess. "Morning dad" he goes over, kissing him on the temple, throwing an arm around him. He pulls back, noticing the tension between  Abbie and his father. "What'd I miss?"

 

* * *

 

Frank Irving looks up from his desk, frowning at a shadow of a man he once knew so well. "August Corbin." he greets. 

"Irving" He grins.

"What brings you back here?"

August grimaces before throwing a file on Corbin's desk. "I wanna go after Nevins"

Irving barks a laugh, downs a mouthful of coffee. Oh how many times has he been here?  "Good luck, I've been trying to swing him for years. Slicker than a greased up pole." 

"Just take a look at the damn file."

"Is that what dragged you back here? Top doctors back out in the city and you come back to Sleepy Hollow for this?"

"I came back to end where I began." he retorts. Stubborn as always. Him and Ezra had suited each other, determined and scrappy since they were all kids. 

"Finish what you started?" Frank queries, wearily shuffling through the papers, a look of disinterest on his face. 

"Something like that." 

 

* * *

 

Mighty Fine Bakery is red and cream bordered on the outside. Inside the cases are lined with an assortment of cakes and muffins. Some fancier than most people in Sleepy Hollow can spell, and others so salt of the earth basic they could probably figure it out in their own kitchen. 

 

But only at Mighty Fine Bakery can you get Lori Mills, in all her warm caring, stern spirit, to greet you like family, and calls you by name. Only at Mighty Fine will she let the children lick the bowl if she's just in the process of pouring a batch into her tins and pans. Only here, can you get that feeling that you're eating something made of heart, home, love and dreams.

Sweets that are just a bit bitter, as all good things arise out of a little bad. Decadence that's sinful, because all pleasures toe that careful, thin line. Food that comforts on  bad days and rewards on good ones.

Tastes like triumph and ashes and will power. Tastes like lineage. 

 

No one talks about it, but you can't miss the presence of the family Patriarch. She doesn't overburden the place with it, not Lori's style. She grieved well and deeply, breaking down at church and out in the street if someone asked her about her day, when it was fresh. Yet time had allowed her to harvest that hurt, and the ensuing financial turmoil, into something good. So he's there, a picture that she keeps on the kitchen wall. A Championship Cupcake that she only makes once every month. Scrawls "Mighty Mighty" on it in blue--Ezra's favourite colour--fondant. Red bordered walls that look, if you're careful enough to make the connection, like the ropes of the ring. So it's tasteful, this little bridge to the past. 

Not to mention people love to see the Mills girls around, different as they are now from back then, helping out on occasion behind the counter. Or Alternatively occupying a table and laughing with one another. 

Mighty Fine is built on family. The people of Sleepy Hollow know that, and they respect that value. 

Jenny chokes on her muffin. "Kissed you?" she laughs. "You telling me Joe put the moves on you?" 

"I don't think they heard you across the street," Abbie huffs, glancing at her mother who comes out restocking her displays. 

"You girls gonna help me or you just gonna look pretty."

Jenny tosses her hair over her shoulder, raises her muffin like a glass to toast. "Sitting pretty today, my compliments to the chef" 

Lori glances at her daughters, smiling at them and shakes her head. "How can I help you?" she asks warmly as a customer comes in. 

"He didn't," Abbie sighs, trying to correct herself. "It was stupid, forget it. Just, thought you should know."

Jenny swallows and takes another bite. "For what?"

"Well, you, you know."

"Pfft"

"Oh really"

"Things aren't like that with me and Joe. By all means if you're interested go ahead."

"Am not and stop lying, I've seen you looking at him."

"He's not bad to look at what do you want from me?" Jenny shrugs, polishing that off and taking a sip from her coffee. She catches the skeptical look on Abbie's face and sighs. "I mean if it comes to that it comes to that but…." she trails off, as if considering. "I'm not mad at him for having a crush on you. Glad he checked out alright this morning." 

"Me too. I'm not interested. Just to clarify. Besides it being unprofessional Joe's not my type."

"And who is"

"What can I get you? Turn around for me I don't think I've seen you before," Lori drawls.

"I'm new, Madam. Still trying to acclimate." 

Jenny's eyes widen. Abbie stiffens. Abbie looks over her shoulder and Jenny has paused with her coffee on route to her mouth. 

Lori nods at him, Ichabod Crane, wearing his crisp sky blue collared shirt and greyish brown slacks and polished shoes. No glasses today. His shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. Sleeves cuffed to his elbows. Looking every bit of charm and newcomer sweetness but Abbie doesn't forget the coldness of his eyes at the ring. The tension that rolled off him watching the match. 

"Might I make a suggestion?" Lori asks. Crane nods politely, smiling, instantly taken with the atmosphere and pleasurable woman behind the counter. 

"By all means please do. I've got a bit of a sweet tooth." he confides. "I'm not picky."

"I've got just the thing." Lori winks strolling down the case and stopping at the one that holds her specialty. She cuts a nice thick slice, "Here or to go?" she asks. Crane has been peering around, taking in the scenery, clearly pleased when his eyes land on the Mills sisters watching him. 

"For here." he replies coolly. Challenge glinting in his eyes. 

Lori pauses, sensing how the air has shifted, thickened with some indescribable energy. She eyes her daughters. "My Red Velvet. There's nothing like it."

"Is she serving him Dad's favourite" Abbie asks, fists clenching. 

 "Looks like it." Jenny finally manages to unfreeze herself and takes another drink, setting her cup back down on the table and raising an inquisitive brow when the door bangs open again. 

Abraham walks in. Casts his gaze around before landing on Crane, he strides up to the counter and claps him on the shoulder. "What're you getting?"

"Mighty Fine's finest Red Vel--" Lori breaks off as she meets eyes with him, her foot steps halting for a brief second before she continues to approach Crane at the till. "Want a piece?" she manages, turning swiftly to retrieve another slice. All of her movements measured and controlled. 

It was so brief but Abbie knows her mother saw it. Knows her mother is flashing back the way she does to those green eyes, fierce but almost innocent then.

 

_A lucky blow._

_I'm sorry Mrs. Mills._

 

_I'm sorry._

Abbie begins rising from the table, barely registering Jenny's hand grasping for her wrist. " _Abbie_ ,"

She's half way to them before she can think through what she plans to do. 

" _Oh_ ," Crane groans obscenely as he lifts a forkful to his mouth, fumbling for bills in his back pocket to pay Lori and then hands Abraham his piece. "Divine, Abraham, simply divine."

"So long as there's chocolate involved you salivate," Abraham jokes.

"It's my favourite," Crane replies smoothly, lips stretching into a smile as he registers Abbie storming towards them. For all intents and purposes Abbie would think he's looking forward to this. "Never could resist it," he murmurs, voice coming out in a low growl that makes her skin prickle. "It would seem we have company," 

Abraham turns to look over his shoulder before taking his seat and it all happens very _very_ quickly then. 

 _"OOOOOH_ "

"ABBIE!"

"Abbie are you crazy?"

"Abraham! _Abraham_ can you hear me?"

"Get her out of here Jenny…..GO!" 

"One sportsman to another Mr. Crane get him to a Doc." 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Abbie's got a mean right hook.
> 
> Connections.

"Alright, come on get him up, get him up," 

"Whoa ho ho, no no head back, head back,"

With Abbie bundled out the door, half clawing, half struggling with Jenny, Lori had quickly abandoned her post,coming out the to the floor and helping to get Abraham upright before she caught sight of the blood. 

Crane helps tip Abraham's head back. "Devil take the hindmost," he mutters.

"She hits like her father," Abraham says, voice a strange mix of astonished admiration. Blinking his eyes furiously as he gratefully accepts the tissues thrust into his hand. 

In short order Lori orders all other patrons out---lucky it's still early  and that's really only two couples and a man who had just come in and then swiftly performed an about face. 

"This is absurd," Ichabod grumbles, rising to his feet. "It's intolerable. It's assault. How dare she? it was utterly uncalled for," and with that starts to make for the front door.

"Don't bother Ichabod I earned it," He groans, voice muffled from the tissues, head still spinning to be honest. He hadn't been prepared for it all. One minute looking over his shoulder to tease his best friend the next the small dark, lethal hand had come hurtling at him, and he hadn't been braced for it at all and down he went. And he's certain he'll have a bump on the back of his head now to match his savaged nose. He touches it gingerly when he thinks the bleeding has stopped.  "Well I don't think it's broken,"

Crane whirls on him with wild eyes. "Not broken? _Not_ , _broken_?" he repeats, voice pitching up with incredulous rage. 

"I'm not mad at her, I've had that coming."

"Had it coming. An unmitigated attack in broad daylight and you had it coming? Nothing can excuse that, volatile dangerous behaviour--- No." Crane nods sharply. "I'm going after her, and we are going to have words about how she conducts herself." 

"Ichabod," Abraham groans, protesting, but the effort it takes to argue with Ichabod Crane---an already infallibly exhausting man---is too much in combination of the pain and situation he's in. 

That leaves him alone with Lori. 

"I'm not half as likely to take a swing on you as my daughters." she says, handing him more tissues and checking the back of his head and the floor for any traces of blood. "Can you stand?"  He raises a hand.

Five minutes. 

Lori nods. "You, you look like,"

"I am," he answers. "I'm the one who hit him, that night. It was me." He feels like he can't get enough air. His mouth goes dry. "I'm….I never meant…..he was a hero to me,"

* * *

 

He hadn't even begun training yet, that's how young he'd been. His elder sister had taken him to the match. Ezra Mighty Mills had a one night engagement in London. He wouldn't have missed it for the world. 

Don't ask him how his sister had pulled it off, but he'd gotten to meet with Ezra afterwards.

Fresh off his triumph, face shining with sweat and eyes crinkling in mirth as he'd stumbled up to him, scrawny then, shy.

"Sit down, tell me about yourself," he'd said, gesturing for Abraham to take the stool opposite.

They were still in the arena. Everyone else had gone home. They sat in the ring. Lights still shining down on them. He'd been too awestruck to respond at first. 

"Ab--Abraham, Mighty, Sir."

He'd grinned. "You hear that boys, 'Mighty Sir'" he'd laughed.

Beyond them, cast in shadow stood three other men. A staunch faced man, white skin, strong jaw and hair that looked like it had always aired on the greyish side. The next one, dark and serious, arms folded crossly before him, all in black. His body guard, security, Abraham had supposed. And another man, smaller, narrow face, spiky hair and eyes sunken in. He hadn't registered these features of course, only the shaded view of them, like dark spectres witnessing what Abraham would recount to his peers as a religious experience. Even book smart Ichabod Crane had seemed impressed with the tale. 

"Did ya have fun tonight?"

"Yes sir,"

"Thought the other guy fought well?"

"He didn't stand a chance," Abraham had piped eagerly, swinging his fists. "Not against you."

Ezra's laugh had been a deep rumbling thing, surrounding and engulfing him. He might have fleetingly entertained the notion that Ezra was a giant. "I appreciate your faith in me Abraham. So tell me, what are your aspirations?"

"Fight like you, sir. Be a legend."

"Is that right?" he calls over his shoulder, as if asking his comrades: do you hear this? do you hear the sweet innocent naive dreams of this tooth pick of a boy? the men laugh, but it's not unkind.  "It's dangerous. You know that, right? Your parents don't want you getting all scratched and banged up, do they?"

"I get banged up plenty as is. Mighty," 

At this Ezra's joviality had vanished, all the bravado evaporating off of him and was replaced by this new figure. A warm, concerned male figure. A father. He'll always remember that. The moment Ezra shed persona and became real. "You being bullied at school?"

A mute nod. He'd felt the weight of Ezra's heavy hand landing on his shoulder. "You tell anyone?"

"They don't listen,"

"You stay strong. You hear? And, look, you keep in touch with me." Rummaging for pen and paper he scribbled down an address to email him. "Let me know how you're doing in school, how you're doing."

"If I learn to fight will you train me?"

He'd leaned back then, assessing. "I don't recommend this profession. You're smart. I can tell. Focus on your dreams."

"It is my dream" he'd insisted. 

"If you get good, maybe one day we'll have a match. If that's what you want. Be safe, take care of yourself. And whatever you want, Abraham--what's your last name?"

"Van Brunt"

"Abraham Van Brunt. Whatever you want out of life. Don't be afraid. _Fight for it_." 

Some years later, after he'd successfully thrashed his opponent he had heard wild whistles of approval as he'd left his dressing room.  His jaw had dropped. 

"The Devil himself, eh?" Ezra had laughed. "I seem to remember the devil being this high"

"Mr Mills." Abraham had gasped in elation, slinging his arms around the man. 

"Oh, look who's proper now. 'Mr. Mills' I miss being called 'Mighty Sir'" 

"I can't believe---"

"You stayed with me, guess I saw something of myself in you. Wanting to prove others wrong. Wanting to prevail. To be strong." He'd clapped him hard on the back and pulled away. "It doesn't have to be this way, though. I'd get out while you're young."

It had felt like a slap. He was just getting started. He was already earning a deadly reputation. 

"I know what I'm telling you," Ezra had warned. "They don't give refunds once you sell your soul." his eyes had been serious before he rallied, shaking the dark mood away. "But you look good out there kid. I'd daresay you could give me a run for my money."

"I can and will." Abraham had replied, challenging. Ezra had beamed at him. 

"See that you do."

"Thank you for coming," he'd said, clasping hands with his icon, his idol, once more, overcome with emotion. 

Ezra had looked him over. "Don't go easy on me when you do. I won't be going easy on you," he'd promised, eyes twinkling. "I'm proud of you Abraham." 

And hell no Ezra had not been going easy on him in that match. He'd almost laughed when he'd seen the line up. He was going up against his hero. Ezra hadn't been worried. He knew the kid. Abraham hadn't been worried, he knew the man. 

But neither had counted on Ezra's injuries, or the mix of medications wreaking internal havoc. 

Neither accounted for one, precise, hit. 

 _The absolute horror._  

The pain and agony, of what he had done to a man who had been for all intents an purposes, mentoring, parenting him, from abroad. He'd  been gutted when the news came Ezra had died. He'd attended the memorial, hood up, obscuring his face.

He couldn't live with himself.

He didn't _want_ to live.

He quit. The ring was tainted now. The thrill the fight, the people the glory the strength, the win---nothing now but a dream he'd nurtured and then it's inspiration he'd murdered. 

He was on the right path to giving himself an early grave drinking before Ichabod, in all his business savvy, hauled him into an AA meeting. Took over looking after him since Abraham would not. 

They'd tried to redirect his path, what remained of his future. But Abraham had taken to very little else. So Crane found himself in a corner, so to speak. He'd never told Crane why he'd stopped fighting. 

Oh he had heard-- _everyone had_ _heard_ \---but no one knew Abraham's deep pain and connection to deceased. 

Ichabod had been a business man, previously. An abrupt closure of the company had found him also in need of an occupation. 

Ichabod couldn't just watch his best friend giving up on life.

Abraham couldn't watch his best friend's life sink. 

So they started going to the ring.

Together.

 Ichabod would invest in helping Abraham fall back in love with aspirations.  Abraham would give this one last shot. He hoped maybe someday he would get a chance to make amends, or to honour the memory of the man. 

He'll admit, once the ball got rolling again, once the crowds started cheering and he started to feel like himself again, his prior motive went quietly by the wayside. His pain a thing that coiled around him, made him almost vengeful. How dare his dream turn on him? 

He hadn't anticipated that it would come back for him, an angry, fiery, thorny woman, laying him out, publicly, in a quiet town bakery. 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry." he says at last, his voice too loud in the valley of silence. "I never meant to hurt him, M--"

"Lori." she nods, biting her lips together. 

"Lori you have to believe me, I, I live with that guilt. Every day. It's never left. You don't understand how--"

"Nearly a decade past," Lori cuts him off, shaking her head. "No, no it's. It's done."

"She had every right."

"She….she loved her daddy. Both of them."

His eyes are blood shot, his face battered. And he's a helpless heap before the woman he helped make a widow. "I….I should have come sooner, to say sorry. Right after I heard, after the memorial I should have--"

"You shouldn't have either because _I_ would have hit you then and _your_ memorial would have been the following week."

"Mrs. Mills."

"If you insist."

"Your husband touched my life. I don't know if he ever told you."

Lori looks at him, her head cocked to the side. "No, no young man I don't think he ever did."

He offers his hand. "Abraham Van Brunt. "

"Nice to meet you. Alright. Good to stand now?"

* * *

 

Jenny has frog marched Abbie almost a block away from the shop when Abbie throws her off. 

"Even I know that was stupid."

"Shut up, I know that," Abbie replies tersely. "I just. Him, Jenny. After what he did has  the nerve to come back and fight here, to walk up in our mother's Bakery, to eat a slice of Daddy's cake, I just….and the beating he gave Corbin that first night."

"Joe fought back."

"Just barely. I….I couldn't deal with it anymore, Jenny. I couldn't…." and the tears well up in her eyes, Jenny's arms open to receive her and she's prepared to be overcome and to cry the confused unresolved tears that had been building up inside of her but then they hear him, grumbling loudly as he comes around the corner. 

"Miss Mills I _demand_ an explanation." Abbie blinks at him. He's actually mad. He's in a downright rage. "I demand you tell me why you laid hands on my client, without provocation, and that you tell me why I shouldn't press charges---"

He goes down gentler than Abraham did.

Less messy.

Clean round house kick to his jaw.

Abbie blinks at her sister in disbelief.

Jenny shrugs.

"I figure you've had enough fun for one day." she checks either side of the street. "But come on and let's get home before we get in real trouble."

Hysterical laughter escaping their lips, the Mills girls run. 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Villains, the pair of them," Ichabod concludes that night as he ices his jaw and surveys Bram's swollen nose. 

* * *

 

 

Saturday morning Abbie takes the sunshine and warm weather as a sign it's going to be a good day. A bright one. It's three days after  the fallout at Mighty Fine. 

 

Since her mother had given them disapproving glances when she'd gotten home---worse than any lecture she could have given them, even at their age, an act as simple as that chastens them. Had filled the ensuing hours quietly helping her fill out an order from home in their kitchen, tidying around the house, going about their own business.

She'd popped by the tattoo parlour twice, during which Katrina and Pandora had been very insistent on how lovely she would be with a tattoo, 'Right here, on your hip' Katrina had suggested, sketching the quickest, most beautiful little mermaid, a replica of Abbie, on a scrap of paper. 

 

"No,"

"Dimples," Pandora had insisted, pointing her fingers into Abbie's cheeks, who was already laughing at their suggestions. "See!" Pandora had exclaimed excitedly. "Right there! we can do rhinestones, Abbie. They'd suit you so well"

Jenny had scoffed, absently tapping her gold dermal. An interesting, swift little habit she had developed. "Daring isn't Abbie's game. Keeps her nose clean, this one. Except for clocking Van Knock Out one the other day."

That inspired a demand for regaling the Van Tassel sisters with the misadventures of that day. 

"I don't know Dora, that sounds pretty daring to me, doesn't it? And all this business mentoring Joe?"

"I'm inclined to agree, Trina," Pandora had purred, giving Abbie a sly grin. 

Abbie had squirmed under their gaze. These two had a knack for carrying on as if they held a secret they wouldn't share. Or something they could predict. An affected behaviour, part of their brand she was sure but it never shook the feeling that they might actually have an inclination toward more than herbal spells and angel cards. 

"Daring or no I draw the line there." Abbie had laughed. "They don't like tattoos at the park."

 

* * *

 

 

Smiling as the sun beats down on her Abbie reaches to push open the dressing room door before Danny's dark hand shoots across her, blocking her entry. She looks up at him quizzically. "Good Morning," she greets him, taking a step backward and looking him over. _What do you think you're doing?_

"What are you doing here Abs it's your day off," he smiles. 

She must be hearing things. "It's Saturday. That's my show slot," she points to the schedule on the wall right next to where they are standing. " Mighty Abigail Mills and The Mermaids of Sleepy Hollow, Saturday, at 1, 3 and 5."  Abbie has never thought of herself as demanding or a diva, and she detests the way her voice sounds now. Entitled. But damn this she is entitled isn't she? She's only been performing here forever.

"Change of schedule Abbie you're on holiday," he continues, still grinning that grin that is starting to look less sincere by the minute, twisting into a grimace. 

"Cut the bull Danny what's going on."

"You're on leave Mills," he sighs at last and then shows her the Sleepy Hollow Gazette.  Annoyed, she snatches it from him, flipping through the pages until she finds what she's looking for. Her stomach drops. 

Of course someone had gone with the story.

" _The Apple doesn't fall far from the tree'; Showdown at Mighty Fine Legacy Bakery. Daughter of Ezra Mighty Mills takes down Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt, seemingly without cause"_  

There's even a picture.

Damn camera phones.

"Can't trust anyone around here, this had to come from one of our customers." She folds it over angrily, stuffing it under her arm and makes for the dressing room again but Danny wont budge. 

"They're pulling you from the schedule Abs, just until this blows over. It made news, didn't you hear?"

No. The Mills women didn't subscribe very heavily to media. Television and the internet ate up their time unless absolutely necessary. But the fact that her little face off with Abraham made their local sleepy news station is not even what bothers her. "What're you saying Danny, are they firing me?"

"No! no, that's not it all, they're just…..A lot of parents bring their children here. This article didn't paint things very nicely and the station didn't do you any favours really. Hell I don't even know what made you do it, but bottom line is management doesn't think they should…..show acceptance of violence. It's part of the code of conduct and ethics…." he continues to ramble on, all of the rational, logical reasons why this makes sense, of course it does. She's read that manual, signs a new conduct agreement with all the others, every year. 

"So I'm suspended,"

"Temporarily"

"Indefinitely" she counters, frustration boiling up inside of her. 

"Abbie they're not firing you, look, when was the last time you had a vacation huh? I've got some time saved up we can go on a camping trip, you haven't hung out with the group of us for a while. They're just as upset about it as you are."

"Over ten years." she starts, voice low and calm. "Swimming since I was five. Synchro since I was eight. I did competitions, I won medals, I almost---" _went for the gold_ , She chokes, betrayed by her own simmering emotions.

Danny always teases her about it but what he doesn't know is she _had_  been on route to the olympics.

Until her father died.

She hadn't had any drive or aspirations for a while after that.  Had taken her some time to find her way back to the water.

 Grief can be a powerful distraction.   "Years here. _Years_. One slip up, if they knew half the story--"

"Well they don't" Danny cuts in harshly. Frustrated on her behalf and his. He's the last person who wants to deliver unpleasant news, and he had known it wasn't going to be an easy feat telling this to Abbie Mills of all people. "They don't and no one else does and they wanna protect the park image. Long story short." 

A beat of silence, the hard determination in Abbie's eyes softens into one of resolve, a heartbreaking acceptance. He doesn't like the look of it on her, not one bit, he almost reaches to lay a hand on her shoulder. "So who's replacing me."

"Abbie no one could ever replace you"

"I said who's replacing me."

Danny pauses, massaging the back of his neck. "New storyline, just while you're gone. Mighty Abigail has been captured by the sea king and her cousin from a neighbouring kingdom sets out to destroy him. She defeats him, but he's hidden you away so she vows to search all of the seas to reunite you with your people." 

Abbie raises a skeptic brow. "The new hero." 

"Abbie, listen to me, you might be back as early as next week."

"And this new character just vanishes?"

He falters, considering the next part. "If--WHEN You come back, the two of you continue your adventures…..possibly." 

"I see. No longer my spotlight huh." She tries staunchly to tell herself it was never about her having the spotlight but she can't help but feel slighted. 

"For all we know you'll be back in the water by next week. Hell maybe even monday." he tries to smile again. "Come on Abs. I don't know what's going on with you, I wish you'd tell me, but take the time and, relax, alright? I mean it, we can have a camp day, the team  of us." 

Abbie smiles weakly. "Thank Danny," claps him on the shoulder and walks away. 

Danny frowns watching her go, knowing full well that was Abbie's way of telling him: _No_.

* * *

 

Abraham had railed at him about it. "That wasn't fair." he'd grunted, flinging the paper on the counter. "You shouldn't have done it Ichabod, that wasn't fair."

" _Fair_? They're lucky I told the police I don't want to press charges. All I told the reporter was she had come out of nowhere and struck you. I didn't lie, Abraham."

"No but you….look I know what her deal is with me but I don't understand your issue with her."

" _Issue?_ "

Abraham gestures vaguely in the air "The way you look at her and the way she looks at you. Just sort it out okay? There's enough going on right now without you feuding with my competition and daughter of my deceased mentor." 

"You've lost me Abraham."

"Sit down _Ichabod knows it all_ and let me tell you what's really going on before you _really_ earn yourself a beating." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just, trust me okay.
> 
> I think Abbie and Ichabod are headed for a proper showdown. Face to face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the places for Crane to turn up.

She takes a deep breath, and dives.

But there is silence here. No wild cheering or enthusiastic screaming of children. 

No curious awestruck boys and girls asking, voices full of wonder, "Is she a real mermaid mommy? are they all real?"

"Yes sweetie, yes, oh look how pretty she is!"

"Can I be a mermaid too?"

"Anything you want to be," and aside to her friend who has also brought her children along. "I could never do that, not in a million years. Guess I'm enrolling Allie in synchro this summer," 

The sun beating down on them and the music charging the air. 

The practiced familiarity of a routine expertly executed. Her swim to the surface, smiling widely with arms thrown open wide in triumph. 

No. Here, in the pool below her Father's old gym where she just finished up training with Joe, Jenny had even gone a few rounds with them, and Abbie, being in the same bad mood she'd been in since her unceremonious enforced holiday from the marine park, had given both of them what for. 

They had let her, bless them. They understood what  a gap being absent from her job left in her day. So here she is, swimming laps alone. It's late. No one swims at this hour, and she didn't bother to turn on the lights when she came in. Place won't officially close for another hour so she has time. 

She takes in the sounds of her own solitary splashes in the water, back and forth, back and forth, leisurely at first before gaining speed, legs kicking hard because she can. One end to the other, she does the four strokes. She used to have a really good time on these. It's so rare she comes in to challenge herself anymore. Fallen in comfortable routine the way she has with the team at the park. They ask for a standard, she meets it. With as many shows as they do, there's not as much time to test herself to exceed those parameters. So her time away might be a sort of mixed blessing. Help her get back in top form. 

It's been two weeks. Joe actually won his last fight and had been promptly assaulted afterwards by a group of women claiming to be his biggest fans. 

"That was quick," Jenny had muttered. 

"Baby Joe! Baby Joe!" they'd squealed. Abbie had smirked at him afterwards when they went for celebratory drinks. 

"Told you it would grow on you." she'd wheedled. 

Him and Abraham hadn't faced off since their first match. But they'd heard results from his matches. No defeats yet. Barring that one draw evening with Joe.  

But most of her time now is at home or the ring.

Katrina and Pandora had been appalled when they'd heard about her job. They'd all insisted on a girls night. Bought her too many drinks to feel better. Had been avoiding  Mighty Fine too, she was taking a vacation from everything until she could get back in her show slot. Lori didn't like it. The hubbub about the fight had died down, but as it was this new storyline seems to have reinvigorated the audience. 

"They're just seeing how people respond to this new act. They're working on a way to  bring you back but people are so excited---" Danny had paused then when she'd cut her eye at him "They like her Abs, but they love you. Everyone agrees it would be a bad move to bring back an old arc after introducing this character. Let them figure out how to bring you back right, new routine they'll all have to learn too, right? But you're coming back Abbie, you are." he'd assured her.

She swims harder until her limbs begin to feel sore and she makes for the edge of the pool, finds herself eye level with a pair of polished shoes. She glances up. Beats water and pushes off again.

"What are you doing here" she asks. Less hostile and venomously as she'd have liked to be, but being angry takes a lot of energy and she's just spent such a considerable amount of it. 

"Given how often we'd been running into each other I found myself rather perplexed at how difficult it has  been to find you," Crane replies, stooping down.

"No street shoes," she comments, swimming further away. "And why, would you like to find me anyway? I'm an unpredictable dangerous little menace'" she'd reread the article closely when Danny had sent her home. Had actually tore his name out of the sheet with her teeth she was so mad. Lori and Jenny both had regarded her skeptically. 

The nerve of him calling her _little._

"My apologies," He murmurs, swiftly reaching to unlace and place his shoes against the wall. "On both accounts. I….I spoke to Abraham--"

"Hah" she scoffs. 

"Miss Mills,"

"If you've come to have at it with me the least you can do is call me by name."

"Abigail."

She rolls her eyes. 

"Abbie"

"Ichabod," 

 "I feel just as I was in the dark, you are similarly. But what I came for, is to apologize for unwontedly antagonizing you, in your home town. Abraham knew your father. He'd met him as a boy, he was devastated by what he had done,"

Abbie doesn't meet his gaze. Her mother had told her and Jenny about   the discussion she'd had with Abraham. The secret relationship none of them had known about. It had lessened her ire towards Abraham somewhat.

Though she still feels cross with Ichabod for what he told the paper. For him daringly, repeatedly intruding in spaces that she has always called hers. The bakery. This gym. This pool. 

"I'll refrain from assaulting him again. We're done here."

Crane bristles. "We are not."

"Oh? What else do we have to discuss, _Mr. Crane_? Your account has me off my job for who knows how long. This is my place of solace when I'm not training Joe and whatever hatchets you might believe we have buried, we are still going for the prize, so don't think this makes things all nice between us. We're still rivals. Us, them." she begins to paddle toward the other end.

 _Infuriating woman_ he thinks before he tries again. "I wish for there to be some level of civility between the two camps. Not so much glaring and hissing if we encounter one another in broad daylight"

She splashes the water in frustration, whirling back around on him. "You know what who the hell told you I was here?" 

"I was fortunate enough to encounter your protege and the roughhousing assailant you call sister."

"I've never seen a man go down so smooth," she sneers. His face colours. 

"Your lot seems to think they have all the skills in their little finger, well I can assure you, in a proper fight, I can hold my own." 

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Crane?" She swims to the edge where he kneels again, makes her voice light, let's herself smile so her eyes crinkle. He leans in, eyes glittering, _got him._

"If you're up to it, _Abbie_. Do you accept?"

Smiling coyly, and she'll wonder later why he wasn't suspicious of her abrupt change in character, she  pushes herself up on the ledge, close enough now for them to be nose to nose, she reaches for his collar, pulling infinitesimally closer. "I do," before her fingers form a fist and she wrenches him off balance, throwing him over, spluttering, floundering, fully clothed into the pool. 

" _Miss Mills!_ " he yells shrilly as Abbie heaves herself out, pausing a moment to wring out her hair, not even trying to mask her smile as she watches him. 

"We've got half an hour before they close. Meet me in the ring," and deliberately sashays away from him. 

He is burning up mad but that doesn't stop him from watching the sway of her hips as she walks away. He keeps himself a float long enough to watch her head for the showers before getting out himself. 

"Damnable woman," he mutters, pinching his wet shirt away from his skin. "Damnable _delectable_ woman." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So are we placing bets on who's gonna school who in that ring? 
> 
> Let's get ready to rumble.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Abbie tries to stifle her laugh when Crane surfaces from downstairs, looking like a drowned rat. 

After stripping down and holding his clothes beneath a hand dryer for as long as he could he emerged in damp clothes rather than soaked ones. A very mild improvement, if one could call it an improvement at all. 

"You should really be more careful Mr. Crane" Abbie calls lazily, reclining on the ropes, mouth half curled in something between a smirk and a sneer. "The floors around the pool can be slippery."

"Gloating is very unbecoming Miss Mills."

"Back to that?"

"I think we have significantly regressed from friendly terms," he snaps, still wringing a corner of his shirt as he approaches.

"That's more your fault than mine. I never suggested we were on friendly terms to begin with," 

"You wound me," he retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm as he hauls himself in, his reply makes her laugh and so he looks up, shaking his still damp hair out of his eyes, and then inhales sharply. 

While the sight of Abbie in her swim suit, a simple navy one piece, had been a welcoming vision, he never thought he would find spandex work out pants and her tank top, with her hair piled up in a bun and bouncing from foot to foot, hands adorned in red boxing gloves, that she would actually be more appealing. Her skin glistens in the dim lighting. Her face a combination of mischief and malice. 

"That's the plan, Mr. Crane. To wound you," 

Scanning the corners Ichabod puts on his own gloves, shaking out his limbs. 

"Everything legal." she says as she advances toward the middle and he joins her, they touch gloves and then split apart, circling around one another, gauging the best starting move.

He lets her swing first, nimbly dodging out of her way.

"You better fight me Crane, I'm not afraid of getting a little banged up. Come on," she feints a jab, distracting him and then goes in swift and hard at his sides.

He blocks and bounces back to his corner, putting space between them. Impatient with defensive tactic she goes in again but he side steps with those long legs, putting himself behind her,  and crouching low comes at her before she can spin around. She takes a few to the side but she seems pleased that he's attacked because she grins before she lands a blow to the side of his head. 

He staggers back, trying to gauge exactly how seriously they're taking this little match of theirs when she seems to read his mind. 

"Don't hold back on me. This is all out."

_Everything legal._

So he goes at her this time, watches her prepare to block or counter but instead he scoops her up at a run and hits her against the pole in the corner. He hears the grunt she makes from the impact, feels the breath leaving her ghost past his ear. He holds her there, pulls back so they're eye to eye. Her eyes register surprise at this manoeuvre. 

Abbie hasn't taken him on much, brain fogged with disdain as it has been every time they encounter one another, but at this close proximity she has to notice his true blue eyes. The way they shift briefly toward something darker than just amusement. Almost wicked. His corded arms around her, holding her captive there in the corner of the ring trapped between him and the pole at her back.

She has to register the very disconcerting heat of him standing there between her legs. He's narrow enough she could lock her ankles together around his waist. She almost squirms from the warm discomfort she feels when he leans in closer.  "How about we make this interesting," he purrs. She huffs in response. 

"Your terms?"

"If I win, in this all out war, no holds barred one night engagement of ours, we spend a day together, and then I get to eat at Mighty Fine, and you'll spoon feed me, each tantalizing chocolatey bite, after hours." 

Abbie laughs but then realizes that movement inadvertently makes her body touch and quiver around his more. His nostrils flare. "Oh my God. You want me, is that what this is?"

"Ding ding ding give the lady a prize," he growls. 

"And If I win?" she asks. 

"Why you get to do whatever you want with me,"

"You assume I want to do anything with you."  

He raises a challenging eyebrow. "I would be at your command, Miss Mills. If it even means serving as punching bag for Joe. Oh no, unless, are you already otherwise engaged, Miss Mills? Is there a brute of man I should be wary of? Is he about to come through that door, moments before the gym closes and catch you here with me, in this most indecent compromising position?" _Son of a bitch_ , he moves in closer,  "Will he knock my lights out?"

"No," Abbie replies evenly, and its an unmitigated struggle given how internally flustered she is at the moment. "But _I_ still might. Drop me and let's finish this."

"Do you agree to the terms?"

"Absolutely. Drop me."

He does and Abbie immediately swings her feet behind his ankles, sending him crashing to the floor. He laughs.

"Oh we're in for some fun tonight,"

She aims to kick him before he grabs her foot levering himself up and she's there hopping on one foot before using her momentum to spin herself around landing a kick to the back of his head. She's surprised it works, she's only ever seen that on WWE. Abbie whoops in triumph. He goes down again but comes back up too spry, his eyes glinting. 

And then Abbie knows she's in for it. 

* * *

 

They devolve from boxing into some other hellish combination of wrestling roughhousing MMA fighting style, at one point she's got his long limbs twisted up in a pretzel. "Beg" she insists, straining against her own muscles complaining that she can't hold him like this any longer. "Beg!"

"Never!" he yells back, gritting his teeth until she's forced to slacken her hold and he takes advantage of her momentary fatigue, wrestling her arms behind her back, pulling just hard enough for it to hurt just a little. "Yield?"

"I do not _yield_ , Mr. Crane"

He shrugs as he tugs harder and she gasps. "Beg then."

There's a retort dancing on Abbie's tongue before he lets her go, gives her a moment to compose herself. She falls back to basics and swings at him, he takes multiple blows to his head, his chest but he keeps standing. Meanwhile it's all she can do to dance out of reach before his long limbs snake around her, trapping her against him in one minute, spinning her across the ring the next and she is exhausted. She manages to take him down one more time before one of his windmilling arms clock her one. 

"Abbie?" he scrambles as she goes down, cradling her head. "No no, Abbie? are you alright?"

"You win," she groans, flinging an arm across her face because she can't stand herself at the moment. 

"This was not how I intended to obtain my victory."

"Well this is how you're gonna take it because I'm not getting up again," She winks an eye open at him. "You can fight."

"So can you. Here." he moves to help her up and then finds himself pinned to the ground. "You have _no_ honour," he glares at Abbie who craftily has reversed their positions, holding his arms down on either side of him, straddling his legs. His face is flushed. "No honour whatsoever, tell me Miss Mills are you at all familiar with the concept of playing fair? first that stunt at the pool and now this," 

Abbie gives a breathy laugh in response and watches his eyes crinkle with mirth. She tries desperately to understand how she went from suspicion, strong dislike borderline hate to annoyance to being, amused, with this man. To enjoying this. She leans it, pausing a breath away, takes in the way his eyes dilate, how his lips part, wonders fleetingly what his beard feels like before she thinks better of it. She leans closer, pausing by his ear. 

On his part defeated or no this is a triumph for him. He can smell whatever body spray she uses, and it is damning hard fighting the temptation to let his lips pass just briefly on the skin of her neck. He gives up the fight. 

"Do you concede defeat?" she breathes. He turns his head, they're so close. 

"I yield, Miss Mills. I am entirely at your mercy. _You win_." 

"This is where I get to do whatever I want with you?"

He harrumphs. "What more could you possibly want after mopping the ring with me I haven't the faintest idea," 

Chuckling again she leans off him, rolls to the side and stands. Checks her watch. They have five minutes before the gym closes. "I want," she smiles, extending her hand and planting her feet in case he decides to try anything. "To try, being civil."

Rising to his feet Crane looks at her, intrigued. "Go on?"

"Wrap it up folks" the janitor begins locking up the doors at the other end. 

"A day. To get to know each other. Maybe we go for dessert after, _during_ _business hours_." she emphasizes and watches his mouth curl in the way of someone who knows they're getting their way. Close to it anyway. 

"I would love nothing more," 

Abbie hurriedly goes about flinging off the gloves, and then accepts Crane's proffered hand when she steps down from the ring, He steadies her with a hand to her waist, they linger like that a moment before they both start giving each other a slow smile. 

They leave together and pause outside the gym doors in the cool night air. Abbie turns  to leave before he grabs her hand and reels her back in until there's but a hair of space between them.

Tipping her head back she meets his eyes. _They're actually pretty nice_ , she allows herself to admit. At this moment, they're kind. Holding her gaze he lifts the same hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles. "Tomorrow?" he asks, his voice a warm invitation.

Abbie shakes her head, fighting off another smile and it's a futile task. "Yeah Crane, sure. Tomorrow"

* * *

 

"Amends have been made," Crane announces when he returns, Abraham makes a cutting motion before he realizes they have company. Nevins appears from down the hall. 

"Amends eh, with whom?"

Despite Abraham's furious gesticulating Ichabod answers. "With Miss Mills. We're…." he pauses trying to decipher the vigorous hand signals his friend is employing and Nevins checks over his shoulder too. 

"Eh that's great news Crane. Fantastic news. I want you to tell me everything."

"Pardon?"

"Anything you find out from her, especially about Corbin's boy. You tell me," he shrugs past him, reaching for the door. 

"I don't understand,"

"Look," Nevins sighs, exasperated. "It can't hurt to get in the head of the competition alright? Keep an eye on em. Learn what makes them tick. It's in your best interest. Night." and then he's gone. 

"What did he want?"

Abraham shakes his head. "He was asking a lot of questions about what happened at Mighty Fine the other day. Had me going in circles about it. Fishing for something. What happened with you and Abbie?"

"Oh, she pulled me into the pool and  demolished me in the ring. We're going out tomorrow."

Abraham scratches his head. "A woman beats you up and now you've got a date. You're a lucky bastard you know that?" 

Ichabod grins. "Oh I am very well aware." 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Jenny and Lori hadn't been able to stop laughing when Abbie told them. 

"Let me get this straight, so you beat him," Lori chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye. "And he's still getting what he wants? Oh Abbie baby you're spoiling him already."

"So next time if you win you're going to agree to marry him, is that it?" Jenny crows, pounding her fist on the table. Laughing with them Abbie tries weakly to protest and deflect their merciless teasing.  "Well talk about a change of events, eh? No more animosity?"

"But still rivalry. Joe's got purpose to fight, and in for a penny in for a pound, I'm not gonna let him down. We're gonna do our best still, for August." 

Jenny yawns loudly. "I'm hitting the hay. Opening up shop tomorrow at the bakery."

Abbie furrows her brow. "Mom?"

"I need a break.  I was going to ask you,"

"But you managed to con yourself into a date," Jenny supplies helpfully. "So I'm stepping up to the plate. Where you guys gonna go?"

Abbie falters. "It's not a date and I…" it's absolutely useless trying to continue from there because her mother and sister have already begun rattling off all the reasons why Abbie is being deliberately delusional. She throws her hands up in defeat. "You're impossible"

* * *

 

 

Danny's eyes widen when he sees Abbie and a strange man approaching the arena where the show takes place. "Abbie!" he exclaims, and she's unsure whether its pleasant surprise or genuine shock that registers on his face. 

"Danny," she nods, making eyes at him. _Whatever you're about today can you try to be normal?_  

 Danny has become a sort of weird, brother figure to her over the years.  Mean mugs guys who look at her. He'd given Luke Morales a hard time---a man she had deeply cared for and the feeling had been mutual--at least before he'd suggested she leave with him when  Luke's job pulled him away from Sleepy Hollow. She was hurt to find out she hadn't cared for him deeply enough to go with him. 

Long story short, it's been a while since Abbie's been seen out in daylight hours with male company. And certainly a while since anyone has passed Danny's particular brand of odd scrutiny.  She watches them a moment, both men sizing the other up. 

Crane is wearing a loose fitting shirt that she would almost call a blouse, but because it's hot, and looks airy, she'll allow it. He's paired it with boot cut jeans in a dark wash and brown loafers. He's wearing his glasses today. She doesn't know why that seems to endear him to her but it does. 

For herself, Abbie had put up a righteous fight in the mirror this morning trying not to over do it. She doesn't know anything about him, doesn't know if this is going to be the most awkward day of her life. Can't decide if maybe she imagined the charge that was between them the  night before. So she went basic, save for a little makeup. An off the shoulder top, her shorts  and her favourite paid of sneakers. Braided her hair the way she normally does for a show. Casual. Painfully so. 

That _had_ been her intention before Lori had spotted her heading out the door. "Where you going looking like that?"

"Out,"

"Uh huh." And Lori was already setting down her coffee mug and advancing toward Abbie and she knew she wasn't making it out of the house unscathed. 

In mere moments she had been reduced to her teenaged youth with her mother fussing over what she should wear. If the nostalgia of it wasn't so sweet she'd have put up more of a fight. In the end her mother had wrestled her into a still casual,but more put together jumpsuit in a soft rose colour. It was short sleeved on the top, cropped on the bottom, cut outs in the waist--Abbie struggled to remember when she had bought this--and she had slipped on her white sneakers. Gave herself a messy braid. 

"Better," her mother had nodded. Wristlet in hand, she'd set off to meet Crane. 

So here they are at the Marine Park and at last Danny extends his hand. "Hey man, Daniel Reynolds, I work here with Abbie,"

This piques Crane's interest. "Truly?"

"Yeah Abbie's our star talent she's…." and he trails off here, at a loss of how to explain why the 'star' isn't backstage getting ready for the crowd. 

"He knows Danny," she confides, saving him the trouble. "He's part of the reason I'm on leave," 

Danny raises his brows. "This the guy you laid out?"

"No that was his friend--look, you got room?"

"Room?"

"I'm here to watch the show Danny. Check out the new mer-girl in town." 

"Indeed Miss Mills you never crossed me as the sort for, aquatic entertainment," he drawls, lips curling up in a secret sort of delighted grin. She can't help but smile back. 

"Well you won't have to go far, there she is, and running late---she's just like you in that. Hey Sophie!" he waves and Abbie and Crane both check over their shoulder. 

Tall brunette with freckles sprayed across her face. "I know  I know Danny I'm going," she flaps her hand dismissively before Abbie calls to her. 

"Hey."

Sophie pauses, doubling back. "Um, hi."

"Names Abbie,"

Confused, Sophie nods. "Okay, nice to meet you Abbie."

Danny clears his throat, tapping Sophie on the shoulder  and then points to something on the wall. Sophie's widen as she takes in the poster, and the woman in front of her. Her mouth opens slightly. "Oh. Oh wow, I'm sorry. You're _Abbie_ , that Abbie," she points to the print which Crane has now taken a deep interest in. 

It's a still they took of her with the gold and silver tail, ornaments strung through her hair, reclining on a rock. She's wearing the matching glittery swim top that goes with it. They'd rubbed glitter on her skin. The other cast members surround her in their own brilliant array but she's the one that's front and centre. 

"Yeah, that Abbie. Mighty Abbie Mills. I wanted to….thank you, for keeping the people happy while I'm on holiday, I look forward to working with you when I get back." It's a half truth, but it's better off to start this positively; if she gives respect she'll get it back. Abbie has no interest in work place drama. And with the time off, she's had some hours to put it into perspective, that it could be fun having a co-star, so to speak. 

"You're welcome, I'm Sophie, Sophie Foster, no nick names yet." 

Abbie bristles but she doesn't think Sophie even recognizes the slight. 

"When do you get back?"

"Actually," Danny interrupts. "I was going to call you later but they think they have something worked out for the Park Anniversary. They want you back in practice next week." 

Abbie's delight must show because Danny grins. "Told you" he winks. "Anyway, Foster, come on there are wonders of the deep to explore and sea kings to out smart, and you two," he nods at Crane. "Need to find your seats. Right this way." 

When they're seated, front row, Abbie lets herself laugh in disbelief. "Well. That's already making today better." 

Crane looks down at her. "I'm glad of it. So this is what you do," he begins excitedly, shuffling closer until their legs touch but she doesn't mind. "This, this is what butters your bread when you're not playing at coach."

" _Playing at?_ "

His eyes twinkle. She rolls hers. This man likes to tease and if she lets him have his way he'll spend the day working her nerves. So she ignores the bait. "Well, yeah. I, I enjoy it here. Staff are great, the people have fun. I'm good at it."

"I apologize once more for jeopardizing your employment, Miss Mills."

"Abbie."

"Familiar again?"

 _Considering how  close and personal we got in that ring_ , she muses and shakes her head. "Sssh. It's starting" 

"Welcome to Sleepy Hollow Marine Park!"

At the end Abbie braces herself for the splashing finish and shrieks with joy when the water sprays over them. Crane grumbles irritably. "Two days in a row," he fusses, shaking out his hair. 

Abbie tugs his collar playfully. "Well you know they say third times a charm," 

* * *

 

 

The racket at the door makes his head pound. "Who is it?" 

"You open up Corbin." 

Grunting August flips the lock. "Hey Lor---" she brushes past him. "Why don't you come in," he sighs, rolling his eyes. 

"Know who called me yesterday?"

August refuses to meet her gaze as he advances toward the kitchen. "Don't you run a business."

"Jenny's taking over for me today I told her I need a day off."

"To come and berate me," August nods to himself. "Makes perfect sense. How've you been?" 

Whatever Lori has come for, whatever reason she had for blustering in the way she has, taking in the bags under August's eyes and the, lightness of him, her resolve weakens. "Sit down. Old dog." she grumbles, finding herself in the kitchen. "You have a lot of unpacking to do still," she says, peering through the archway to the living room.

"Don't know if there's much point considering I might not be here that long."

Lori chooses not to acknowledge the allusion to his worsening health. "Chemo and nothing?"

"Two bouts. It's aggressive is all. Determined son of a bitch. Guess it figures I'd raise cells as defiant as I am."

Lori sighs as she rummages in the fridge for juice, pours them each a glass, begins rooting around in the cupboards. "You got any flour?"

He gives her a withering glance. "For what?"

"Cynthia Irving called me last night to tell me you'd been in to see Frank. Ah. I need eggs, sugar…" she lists off ingredients as she continues to ransack his fridge and pantry. "I figure, the time it takes for me to finish making a pan of muffins---oh you've got bananas," she says, pleased as her eyes land on the bunch sitting on the table. "That will be plenty of time for you to tell me what you mean by dropping off that file."

"File?"

"You know the damned one August. About Nevins."

"What about Nevins." 

She turns on him, "I would break this egg on your head if you didn't look so awful. _What about Nevins_? That's exactly what you're going to tell me August. I'll let you get your story straight while I mix these over here." She makes a sound of triumph when she finds his mixer. "And don't lie to me August." she says coolly. "I hope you know better than to try."

* * *

 

"I'd like to see your show, when you return." Crane ventures  "It was quite, entertaining"

"It's nothing really. Simple clear stories, tried and true routine. Smile, perform, rinse and repeat---it's the sort of, predictability that feels, comfortable." _Safe. No unwanted surprises. The crowd always loves you. Your team always supports you. Stick to the script and it all goes off without a hitch._

Ichabod studies her for a moment and Abbie can feel his eyes boring a whole in the side of her head. They're at the park sharing a bench with recently procured cupcakes and donuts from Mighty Fine. Jenny had all but forced them into her hands when she'd walked in. 

"Don't eat in here," she whispered. "The weather is awesome, enjoy it outside." 

So Abbie had taken her sisters advice and here they are. He's had icing in his beard for the last five minutes and it's finally driving her insane. She stopped listening to whatever he's talking about because she was so distracted by it. She grabs a napkin and edges closer to him, momentarily halting his speech as he notes her shift in proximity and reaches up to dab it off his face. 

"My my Miss Mills," he murmurs and she feels his breath against her fingers, dancing neatly around his frosted beard. "Doting on me already."

"You're a messy eater," she counters, swiping the last of it away, avoiding his gaze. 

"Not always." he continues. "Only if I am devouring something _incredibly_ delicious." Her skin warms and she knows it's because he's giving her a once over and she puts distance between them again. 

He watches her carefully, polishing off his last bite. "I trust you did not find today completely unbearable?"

"I'm still trying to understand how I'm here, to be honest. I mean, last night….."

"I have been quite taken with you since we first met, you should know. Even Abraham thought it ill conceived."

"I've got to ask why."

"You're stunning. Determined. And you have eyes that say they hold secrets that you only share with a privileged few. I hope to become one of those few one day. If we are officially no longer feuding outside the arena?"

Abbie tucks a loose tendril behind her ear. "No promises there." she smiles. "You….grate on the nerves a bit, do you know that?"

"I'm told it's an endearing character trait."

"Who tells you these lies?"

And she is rewarded with his hearty laugh. 

She loves his laugh. 

His eyes crinkle.

Somewhere in her head a bell goes _Ding._

The beginning of a different type of match entirely.  


	11. Chapter 11

Abraham looks up and eyes the lock as it turns, ears tuned to a weird sound. Downright strange because he hasn't heard ---"AH SOLE MIO" 

He groans. Crane singing. The man worked in marketing and advertising but had time in the midst of all the numbers and deals, and even when he decided to delve into boxing to become an equal match for Abraham himself before becoming his coach and manager, Crane has nursed a very insistent love of Opera and classical music. 

Which is fine.

Abraham can appreciate high art. More the pity on the fool who can't. 

But Ichabod Crane is _not_ a trained singer. 

He twiddles his finger in his ear as he watches his roommate/coach/manager/best friend swagger---he groans again inwardly Cranes swagger usually means a higher level of being his insufferable self.---- and gingerly places a box on the counter, going to wash his hands at the sink.  Abraham inhales, interest peaked and leans over it. 

"Hey what's in there---"

"Keep your paws off of it," Crane quips, turning around, drying his hands and perching himself on the stool, opens  the box. 

"Cupcakes?"

"Leftover morsels from a wonderful outing with beautiful company" he replies smugly, admiring the contents of the box. Abraham suspects Ichabod might actually pet it if he were left alone. 

"Good time with Abbie?"

Crane delves a finger into the icing, licking it clean--day dreaming about her no doubt-- eyes shut blissfully. "Lovely. She's a mermaid. Off for a bit due to the row of the other day--but a mermaid" he says and grabs a fork to dig in. 

"And I'm a troll."

"Well that's not inaccurate." 

His friend rolls his eyes. "Anyway, glad you had a good time and that she's a creature of the deep. And that you got here in time for my match tonight."

Crane chokes. "Match?" 

"Angel of Death, Crane. You scheduled it." 

He sits there, blinking dumbly, letting the fluffy cake dissolve on his tongue and thinking that he needed to pop by the bakery and deliver his multiple compliments to Lori Mills soon before he shakes out his shoulders and a business like steel settles in his eyes. "Just let me change. You all warmed up?"

"If you let me get a couple of swings at you that ought to do the trick," he sneers. 

"You're just jealous I have better luck with women." 

"Say the man who's last girl friend left him behind to pursue her sewing career."

Crane bristles. "It was fashion," he hisses. "And you know I was never interested in Betsy in that manner. A past time nothing more."

"Callous womanizer," 

"Yes Abraham I can't help but parade women in and out of my bed" his voice drips with sarcasm. "And how goes your love life?"

Abraham clenches a fist. "No, seriously Ichabod, one solid hit and I'll be fine form for tonight. Come on. Come here. " he growls lunging at him as Crane dodges "Come on coach, just, one, hit"

" _Abraham!_ "

* * *

 

"Well?" Jenny asks when Abbie saunters in minutes before closing. Abbie wishes she could stop smiling. 

"He's…an alright guy."

"An alright guy," Jenny echoes. "You're lit up like a damn Christmas Tree. Alright guy must be an electrician." 

Abbie leans over the counter and swats at her sister. "Stop that. You need help?"

Jenny looks around, dusts off her hands and lets her hair down, tousling it as she does so. "Nah I think we're good here. Ready to head home?"

"I was wondering actually if you'd like to come check out a fight. Good to keep abreast of who's out there." 

"Should I call Joe?

"No let's call this a  girls night."

"At a fighting ring," Jenny deadpans and then bursts into raucous laughter. "Finally my kind of girl!" she crows and Abbie elbows her as they lock up the shop and begin heading toward the arena. 

* * *

 

"Place is packed"

"They say he's good," Abbie shrugs. "Only one around who's a free agent."

"No coach no--- that's not legal is it?"

"Don't ask me someone must bend the rules around here for him. You know how they are. Might just be a brand thing. There's probably some slime ball watching ringside down there." 

"Hey," Jenny nudges her. "August was some slime ball for dad. You're some slime ball for Joe right now," 

Abbie screws up her mouth, biting back a laugh. "Fair point." 

"We're in deep water here tonight Axel,"

"We sure are we've got the Angel of Death facing off against Van Knock Out. Someone's going down tonight and hard."

"So long as it's not me Axel, I'm in for a good time."

"There he is," Abbie nudges Jenny in the side, pointing way down below them. They have crappy seats, given the hype the match had been getting. They can only tell one from the other down there because Abraham's competition has the most horrifying pair of angel wings inked on his back.

They look gruesome, there's even a few spatters of blood on them, torn wings, a scythe, a skull. It's solid work, scary but on point. Jenny whistles appreciatively of it. 

"That must have been a bitch to sit for," 

"What? what are you looking at."

"Don't you mean the Angel of Death?"

Abbie rolls her eyes and points again. Jenny leans over, squinting. "Him, with the glasses, right there, are you blind?"

Jenny's eyes rove over a lean figure who might be screaming himself to death as the match starts. 

"Crane," Abbie sighs exasperatedly. 

Jenny reels back as if slapped. "Are you kidding me? we come to scope out the match and you're showing me your new boy toy?"

"He's not---I just---" Abbie deflates and feels silly all at once. 

Her sister cracks a smile and punches her arm. "I'm kidding. He's cute from this angle." she shakes her head. "One date and you're already so excited over him---my God Abbie are you blushing?"

Abbie folds her arms and slumps. "Watch the damn fight." 

" _OOOOH"_  

"This isn't going to be Van Knock Out's night is it,"

"No," Abbie cringes. "Probably not"

* * *

 

"Shit" Abraham curses, throwing Crane's arm off him back in his room, flinging off the towel. 

"Next fight Abraham, next one--"

Nevins slams into the room close behind, sunken eyes wide in a rage. "If you'd take the damn 'vitamins' I gave you he wouldn't have cleaned your clock out there." he hisses. 

Crane's eyes narrow.  "What vitamins, Abraham's on a very regimented diet---"

"You need to take several seats," Nevins snaps. "I know this business. Seen the worst injuries seen the best performances. You should count yourself freaking lucky I'm working with you. I treat legends." he emphasizes. "I know what the body can stand better than you'll ever know--I know what it can take to win, what it takes for to shut a body down." he grabs the towel Abraham just dropped and slaps his shoulder with it. "And you're wasting, my, time" he grunts between each slap. Abraham just sits there. It doesn't hurt. But it does grate on his nerves. 

"You're a physician." Crane says, voice tight. "Your concern is his health. Not if he wins, not if he loses, leave that to me." 

Nevins nostrils flare  he turns on Abraham. "You better win your next fight." he throws the towel at Crane who just barely catches it and storms off. 

Crane closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. "Never mind him. We'll train harder." 

"Yeah." Abraham says slowly, his mind wandering. "Train harder." 

* * *

 Lori can't sleep, mind still whirling from her conversation with August. 

" _Can't get him for malpractice Lori that's old hat. No, it's time someone took him in for murder."_

 


	12. Chapter 12

Nevin's the Brains.

Ezra the Brawn.

August the Coach.

Frank the Authority. 

Even back in highschool, these were the labels these men carried. Close knit mix matched pack of friends. All quite smart and athletic, mind you, but each had their area of expertise. Ezra was always the athlete, always the one who was fit for track, later foot ball, high school wrestling team. Brilliant marks in English and history, eh….not so hot in mathematics and science. 

That's where Nevins came in.  Scrawny shy guy who cracked mean jokes and had a pack of his own, other guys who excelled at debate team and would go on to start big corporations. It was a good crowd, his. But they didn't, spark, the way Ezra did. 

Ezra made you feel like the whole world could be yours if you played your cards right. Like anything was possible, the best of times in the midst of the worst. 

So when Nevin's got informed he had been hired by August---even then August seemed to have a knack for running peoples lives----to tutor Ezra Mills, he was, to be frank, excited. 

In all honesty he expected that the sessions would pass, he'd get paid, and maybe Ezra would greet him in the halls and he'd…feel special, basking in the school darling's glow. But no. Ezra latched on. Invited him to join them at lunch. It's a terrible cliche, but Nevins was eager to take a chance at high school limelight, as close to it as he could get. And he would revel in it through graduation.  

Frank was the stony silent one. Was in as many advanced classes as Nevins had been, as many sports as Ezra had been, but he managed to balance himself by becoming defined by neither one. He was just the well rounded guy, who could shut down a school quarrel with a glare if not a firm word. 

No surprise then he was always Class president or on student council, or whatever other policy making student government the school could think up. He ran the place, kept law and order….quite literally. Nothing short of a fitting, somewhat pleasant surprise that he would decide to join the police force later when paths diverged. He use to talk about running for Mayor back then. 

He might yet. 

And August was the unassuming nurturing one. Tough, tough as nails and known for brawling in the locker room if you stepped on his toes but the same man would be handing the poor sucker a tissue for his bloody nose and turning himself in to the principle. Frank would be there in the office, milling around with whatever newest policy or rule, would look him and his latest victim over and wave them back out the office. Issuing the simple warning. "Next time you're suspended,"

The guy he beat up never objected. Who was going to go head to head with August's crew? 

The smartest, craftiest, most well liked guys at school? 

Hell, even _he_ still liked August after the beating he'd given him---he shouldn't have insulted August's mother---he had that blow coming. 

They ruled that school, best, tight knit friends. 

Lori started there their final year. Chemistry with Nevins. Shared a table. Worked on all their assignments. He was impressed how quickly she could convert and solve. 

Lori's gift for baking isn't just putzing around in the kitchen---that's her best chemistry equations at work. She didn't know what it was good for, at the time. Only she loved the periodic table like a girl might some celebrity and she really liked mixing things together to see if they might explode---small wonder that she had in fact blown up a few batches over the years when she baked. 

Lori and Atticus Nevins, were friends. Good friends. The type of friend that Nevins would start bailing out on the guys for to work on his lab with Lori. He made something ignite in pink fire once, around valentines day. To this day he doesn't think she ever put two and two together. And he didn't mind, not really.

There were girls like Lori and guys like Atticus. 

There was an order to things. 

But Ezra. "You've gotta show me this girl you're willing to skip out on guys night for." he'd joked. And on cue, she'd turned the corner.

They both paused to drink her in. Bouncing dark curls pulled back in puff. Shimmering eyes. Strong, filled out girl. 

 "Well I mean I think lithium is pretty damn neat myself." Ezra had babbled appreciatively as she'd waved and nodded--at Atticus--not him. 

"See you after school Atticus?" 

"Sure will Lor," self consciously ruffling his hair after she disappeared. 

"Lor?"

"Her names Lori, she's ace---"

"She's gorgeous." he'd turned on his friend. "And she willingly spends her time with you?" Nevins had flushed scarlet before Ezra put him in a head lock. "Atta _boy_. Whoo! _Damn_. Well, make something of that before I do." 

And it had seemed an idle threat. 

At the time. 

* * *

 

The bell dings over head and Jenny looks up. "Oh." 

"Hey." he looks around, taking in the place, nodding his approval. "You got a spot open?" 

Jenny swallows. "Yep, Trina? you got time? I would but I've got an appointment." she explains. 

Katrina comes sashaying out of the back then, drying her hands from lunch. "Sure do--oh, who have we here then?"

"The Angel of Death," Jenny drawls. 

Katrina looks to her friend and laughs. "Such a flare for the dramatic JenJen."

"No, she's right," he agrees, when he smiles his teeth look almost a little feral. In one swift move he whips his shirt over head and turns around, showing off his mark. Katrina looks it over. "Nicely done. Whose work?"

"The devil," he laughs, turning back around and extending his hand. "Orion Angel. But most know me by Angel of Death."

"He fights," Jenny supplies. 

Katrina nods, seeming momentarily distracted. "Put--put your shirt back on. What do you want done?" she asks, gesturing to the table. 

"If you could fill in some gravestones for me that would be perfect."

"Grave. Stones."

"Yeah."

"Right! cause you're the…Angel of Death! of course! sure! So at the base of the wings then?" she asks, groaning inwardly when she realizes that means once more the removal of his shirt. 

"That would be perfect. go all out." he encourages, taking a seat. Katrina looks over her shoulder at Jenny with her mouth in an o of shock. 'How am I supposed to concentrate?' she mouths. 

Jenny shrugs and winks. 'you'll figure it out I'm sure' 

Flustered and feeling too warm, Katrina starts to sketch. 

* * *

 

 

It's two weeks later. 

"You sleep?" Abbie asks as she lands what must be her tenth blow. 

Joe shakes his head wearily. "Time out Abs."

"Excuse me? Time out?"

"Listen you're all in and I can appreciate that---"

"You can _appreciate that_?" 

Joe scowls. "Dad had a rough time last night. Like." he shakes his head. "I'm just not in it today."

Abbie works her mouth, considering being understanding, giving him some slack, but for this same reason is why Joe needs to keep his head in the game. Regardless. "You can't afford to not be in it if he needs this money. Listen you got a match next week that's gonna qualify you to move on. Go for big guys. Start getting something out of this. So you can help, August, which is what this whole entire damn thing is about. Remember that when you're telling me you're 'not in it'" 

He glowers at her but then he rolls his neck and brings up his fists. 

"That's better. Now come on, hit me like you---whoa whoa whoa!" she recants as he starts coming at her fast and furious.  

"This 'in it' enough for you? huh?" he demands, beating her into a corner, she can't seem to get her bearings. He's crowding her and the blows are heavy and unrelenting.

"I give!" she calls. "I give! I yield! _Down boy_!" 

The onslaught stops as quickly as it began. Joe backs up, a cheshire grin on his face. "Sorry about that. I got carried away. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Hell no you didn't hurt me" she breathes, bending and exhaling. "Shit." 

Joe laughs. " Yeah well. you riled me up."

"Oh sure blame me for doing my job. Don't you ever let me see you give less than that again. Damn it." She throws her gloves off and goes for her water bottle. "Stick a fork in you, you're done. Get outta here." 

"Coach," he salutes,  and  then clapping sounds around them. They both pause to look around and when Abbie sees who's approaching them  the corner of her mouth twitches into a smile. 

"Master Corbin I must admit I'm vexed that she yielded to you so quickly when she was so terrifically stubborn with me" 

"Crane," Joe nods warily, still not one hundred percent sold on the idea of cross team fraternizing but having no real reason to dislike the man. But it's safe to say, he hadn't been as excited as Jenny had been when she'd told him. 

"You here for a rematch?" she teases and Crane smiles at her, hanging over the rope, face glistening with sweat decorated with a beaming smile. They've been out twice more since their first outing. When the Marine Park holds their anniversary show, he intends to be there. He's been over eager to see what she's capable of in the water. 

"I wouldn't dare step in that ring with you in it. Not in broad daylight anyway" he adds, his tone only mildly suggestive. But its enough for Joe to clear his throat. 

"Thanks Abs, you…" he slides his gaze to Crane. "Have….fun." 

"I will," she assures him eyes twinkling as she looks down at Crane. "What brings you by? I could swear I told you to stay out of this gym?"

"I like to dance with danger." he answers, easily swinging himself up to join her. He balances on the opposite side of the ropes, leaning in precariously close. "And you're my definition of it," 

She snorts and reels away. Somehow she's managed to hold off kissing him for this long and she's not sure why but she gets a perverse pleasure out of teasing him with it. He frowns at her as he leans back, gripping the rope for support. He nods over his shoulder. "What was with him just now? I half feared he meant to concuss you." 

"Oh. Joe? Yeah, his….his dad's sick. That's why he's in this. The only reason I'm back in this---it might be in my blood, part of my childhood, but it's….it's not my first love." 

"And what is?"

"The water." she smiles shyly and his heart melts. She's so coy and aloof and one of the boys sometimes that when she's…honest like this, like he's letting her peak at her….marble collection or what have you, it just makes him want to take her in his arms---but she's not the sort, he's learned. No matter how much he can tell she warms to him, she's still holding herself pretty separate and apart on some level. But he's a patient man. 

"But I don't understand, what does, this" he indicates the ring the gloves, the rather recent bruise Abraham has given him on his cheek. "Have to do with his father?"

"I have't told you this story yet?" she asks, eyes crinkling with mirth. 

"You've neglected to do so." 

"Wait here let me hop in the shower and we'll grab coffee. I'll tell you then."

* * *

 

 

Abraham's just finished knocking back a glass of water after his check up with Nevins when Crane gets back. 

"Lemme guess." Nevins snarls. "Out with Mills instead of prepping your champ." 

Crane cuts his eye at him. "Greetings, Nevins."

"Well, how are things going with you two?" he asks, all false cheer. "Have you held hands yet?" 

Abraham snickers in spite of himself and Crane glares. 

"Listen I don't know what it is that interests you so in her---she's not even really into it." 

"No? tell me what's she 'in to' then Crane. Enlighten me." 

"She's just helping Joe. That's all there is. His father's sick. They want to win that championship money for his operation, give him a fighting chance."

Nevins eyes narrow. "How, sick."

Crane shrugs, eying Nevins warily. "Enough I suppose, to go to such lengths. They have a complex history those two. Did you know Joe's father used to coach hers?"

Nevins raises his brows in surprised interest. "Really. I had no idea." 

Something rings false in Abraham's ear but before he can say so Nevins is packing up and headed out the door. "Take it easy, let it work."

"Let what work," Crane prods when they're alone. 

"Nothing Crane, nothing." 

* * *

 

August hunkers down with the phone in his room, talking as quietly as he can manage without a cough rattling through him. 

"Tell me something good Frank."

"How long have you been at this?"

"You know how long." he shoots back.

"And you wanna charge him with murder."

"I'm going down swinging."

"Hah." Frank chuckles darkly. "Last man who went down swinging, _he dead_ , and you know who I mean. And we still couldn't hold him for it. I'll get back to you though," he says. "I've gotta man who might corroborate your theory." 

"Yeah?"

"Don't get too hopeful now. He's just as crooked as Nevins. And I don't know if I trust him further than I can throw him"

"Alright," August wheezes. "Alright get back to me."

"Will do."

Frank inhales deeply and scans under 'H' in his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's Frank calling?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause I'm just gonna riff on Abbie and Crane for a little bit. 
> 
> If you object please say 'I'

Noise.

Incoherent noise.

Pandora shifts sleepily and pushes the heavy shoulder next to her. "Harmmmfhh" she grumbles.

Why he insists on this racket as a ring tone is beyond her. "Harmon," she manages at last. He groans and shifts slowly as if he's been asleep for thousands of years. "Harmon," she hisses. 

"Beloved," he answers, voice already a bottom of the basement bass pitches half a step lower in his groggy state. 

"The phone," 

"I am aware," he fumbles on the nightstand for it, the ringer compounded with the aggressive vibrating it makes on the nightstand and Pandora is this close to clocking him in the head with it. He knows she hates having her sleep interrupted. Hand landing on it at last he answers before checking the number. "Who is calling," even though he's only just waking up his voice conveys a soft if not deadly command. Pandora grunts and rolling over kicks her feet at him until he huffs, swings his legs out of the bed and leaves the room, casting a glare over his shoulder but she has already bundled the sheets around her and gone back to bed. Out on the balcony he asks again. "Who is calling."

"I've got some questions for you Harmon,"

He scrubs a hand across his face, holds the phone away and checks the time. "You roused me from my slumber for petty inquiries?"

"Oh. Trust me, there's nothing petty about a murder investigation."

Harmon is silent for a beat, trying to run down his most recent deeds, his deals, any arrangements. Nothing he can think of that puts blood on his hands. "….Go on,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wow, this is gorgeous." Sophie croons as she holds up the new top piece for costuming. They had Abbie back in rehearsals and it's been nothing but practice practice practice, they could perform this new bit in their sleep now, and Abbie is nimble and swift and quick. Her mock battles are powerful and sharp, her course from one end to the other are flashes of colour when her tail flicks behind her. 

Time in the ring has made her stronger, more fierce. Time swimming on her  own has finessed her technique, makes her a lightening flash. 

And time with Crane….well.

She looks over her shoulder at him sitting in the stands as Caroline wheels out their costumes. Because, and quote

"They just do this thing in sunlight, you'll see"

so they're all out there gathered around the new tail and piece designs and how beautiful they are. Because Sophie and Abbie are part of a team of sorts now, their outfits correspond. A sort of magenta and chartreuse with gold sequins---which in any other ensemble would be garish---light up together in the water. There are so many sparkles and gems on Abbie's new tail and mermaid bra---a spray of sparkling twining strips of fabric and shells---she wonders if it won't be heavy once she gets it on. 

And they glimmer. The sunlight catches them and sure enough, just as Caroline said, they catch that light and reflect it right back at the audience. Abbie suspects there will be many instances in which the audience will think they've gone momentarily blind. It will be like flashes and sparks under the water---which given that the story entails Sophie--ahem---Fierce Sophie Foster---she got a nickname after all, and now Abbie teases her about it---will rescue Abbie from the prison she's being held in, and then they will both break free, fighting off the evil sea kings henchmen with a triumphant return home. With lots of acrobatic jumping and twirling and such. 

It's going to be the perfect anniversary show for the park. 

Abbie makes a motion to Crane to wait a minute while she goes back stage to try on the outfits with Sophie, let's Caroline do them in full makeup, bold streaks in bright colours and so much glitter. 

"I'll be finding this in places where it doesn't belong later," Sophie whispers out the corner of her mouth and Abbie smirks in agreement. 

"We're taking pictures for the posters!" she explains and Danny emerges then, camera in hand. 

"Let's go ladies, while the lights still good." 

Outside, with the sun beating down Crane shields his eyes as he watches the two women in their brilliant garb dive into the water. He hasn't seen Abbie swim yet, per se. Not in a show capacity. He always turns up at the end of practice. She casts an amused glance his way and after she's changed she'll join him up there and she'll let him toy with her fingers as he tells her about what his life was before he started managing Abraham. She tells him what life has been like since her father died. 

But today, is the first time he's seen her, in person so to speak, dressed up in all of the fandangles of being a 'Mermaid of Sleepy Hollow'.

 And she,

 Is,

  _Breathtaking._

 He watches her hair fan out around her in the water, how she laughs and swims in circles with Sophie, frolicking as Danny takes pictures of them, capturing what he supposes will convey a sisterly bond for advertising. And it's not far off, he thinks. While Abbie had seemed somewhat, concerned, about Sophie's addition to the group, they more or less seem to be getting along. They don't spend time outside of work together, but they seem to have a genuine good time working together, and for that he's grateful. 

He's still ashamed of himself for interfering with her job--and would have loathed himself if that had lead to her being stuck with a miserable colleague.

So he watches them now, and his heart lifts because this woman, this, small statured, fireball woman---is a mystical creature beyond imagination, in the water. 

She doesn't scowl. She doesn't clench. She doesn't guard herself, the way she does still sometimes with him. No on Abbie's face it's nothing but pure unfettered joy. He can't help but smile watching her---and she's not even performing live. She's so happy, at peace, there, it shines from her. And he could watch her there, lazily making laps in that pool, swishing that bewitching tail---and he wonders now if he's developing some sort of fish fetish because he's finding the movement of it very seductive---and be a happy man.

His phone buzzes. He looks down to check it. Training with Abraham. Of course. Right. 

He stands and waves, trying to catch her attention. It's Sophie doing a backstroke and laughing widely for the camera who catches sight of him and splashes in Abbie's direction. "Hey! Your man up there is trying to get your attention"

"He's not my---" 

Sophie throws her hands up in surrender. "Eh. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck."

"Ooh." And Abbie splashes her furiously, cackling wickedly as she heads for the edge, motioning for him to come down. He runs down the steps so fast she thinks he might just run right into the pool. "What's up?"

"I've got to--training." he groans, rolling his eyes. She laughs. 

"Training." she agrees. 

"You look stunning." he breathes, face flushed in the heat. 

"Thanks. You should go, before Abraham goes hulk on you."

Ichabod pauses. "It's not in my head, is it? he's looking….bigger?"

"Quicker too," she admits grudgingly. "Real quick. You got him on something?" she asks suspiciously. 

"Rigorous routine and nothing more," he quips, though she sees the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He rises to go but she catches at his pant leg. 

"Hey. What….after training with Abraham….I'm going to be at the gym with Joe myself later. What are you doing after then?" 

"I personally had no plans," he demurs, watching her slyly. 

Danny clears his throat. "Abbie I haven't gotten my shot yet." 

"I'm coming Danny---God," she huffs as she turns back around to meet Crane's blue eyes. It's not fair for eyes to be that pretty, she thinks. "Well, come by." she suggests softly.

He raises a brow. "Come by?" he repeats. 

"Yeah," 

"Yeah?"

"Are you a parrot or what?"

Crane chuckles and pushes his hair back from his forehead. "And what manner of pulverizing do you wish to visit upon me tonight?"

"Oh I don't want you in the ring." she dismisses quickly.

"But you do want me,"

Abbie opens and closes her mouth. That hadn't been exactly what she meant but he's giving her that smirk. "A race. And don't repeat after me."

"I can't help but wonder what you have in mind, Miss Mills."

"Bring your trunks. We'll swim. See who has the better time."

"I assure you _Abbie_ , these long limbs aren't for show." 

She drifts back and away in the water, smiling at him, eyes twinkling. "I guess I'll just learn that the hard way then huh? 8:00 tonight. My father's gym."

"The one you like to forbid me from attending?"

"ABBIE" Danny calls and Sophie starts joining in. "It's getting hot as hell out here man! Come on! Hey no offence" he waves to Crane who waves faintly back, attention completely absorbed by the enchantress floating before him. 

"The one and the same. Bye Crane," and bobs quickly out of reach, diving back under as she darts away. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash backs between Past and Present.

Past

Ezra and August had been in the library, mulling over their texts when Lori had come in. "That's her"

"Who?" August had asked. 

"Nevins girl." Ezra whispered, nodding to Lori who was now perusing the shelf behind them. August raised a brow, intrigued. 

"Nevins girl?" he mouthed in disbelief, craning and straining to peer between the shelves at her. Ezra rolled his eyes at his friends antics before August grumped, pushed off from the table and started heading for the end of the aisle. 

" _What're you doing_?!" 

"Sssh" August made a staying motion before turning the corner and sauntering towards the pretty girl hunting among the stacks. She didn't look up as he approached so he sidled down the aisle towards her, pretending to be looking for something until they bumped into one another. "Oh wow _sorry_ didn't see you there"

On the other side at the desk Ezra had thrown his head in his hands and groaned. 

"Just watch where you're going next time and there won't be any trouble," she joked, her voice a warm velvet and for a moment even August had been captivated. 

"August Corbin," he'd introduced himself, sticking out his hand. She'd glanced down at it curiously before slipping her hand into his.

"Lori," she replied, gripping hard and giving him a firm shake. She enjoyed the brief moment of shock that had flit across his face. Girls didn't shake hands with such strength. Average girls anyway. 

"A pleasure," he'd nodded and then looked up, checking the aisle number. "Shoot I'm even in the wrong aisle, sorry! I'll see you around?"

"Well if you keep bumping into me you might," she smiled and August chuckled before walking away and joining Ezra on the other side of the table.

"What was that?"

August shrugged. "She's pretty. And you're a liar. No way is Nevins dating her, he'd have screamed that from the roof tops by now."

"Well, he's not." Ezra admits. "But he likes her." his head turns as Lori exits the aisle, arm full of books toward the check out desk, he keeps following her with his eyes until she leaves. 

August snorted. "And so do you apparently."

"What? nah man, she's not my type. She's in that advanced class with Nevins."

"You're not like some meat head."

"No but she's like some genius. Birds of a feather, flock together, and all that other garbage." he had smiled, turning his eyes back to his books, but none to convincing. "And Nevins, he's my friend man. I can't do that to him. Although the temptation is strong." he groans. "Very strong."

"You and Nevins keep pussy footing around a girl like Lori she's gonna shock you both and go out with somebody else."

He audibly snorts. "Yeah? like who, you?"

"I have my charms." August retorted. 

"I'm sure you do, now can we get back to question fifteen? I need to finish this up before practice later." 

* * *

 

Present

_Oofmph._

Crane staggers. They're at the other gym across town. Polished sleek place. And Abraham is wearing him out and they're only twenty minutes in. He's also distracted thinking about meeting Abbie later and Abraham can sense it. The next blow lands maliciously to the side of his head. 

"Abraham!"

"Get your head in the game!" his friend roars. "You put all that time into getting me back up to par and some girls got your head in the clouds."

Crane shakes his head and glares. "That _girl_ is the daughter of the man you murdered." he replies coldly and catches him a second too late after he's said it. 

" _Murdered_?" Abraham asks, voice low and angry. "You think that's fair? that was an accident, _Crane you_ \---" he growls, tearing off his gloves and flings them at Crane, one and the other, both catching him one in the arm the other the knee, they sting a little on impact. While Crane bends down to pick them up Abraham storms towards him, gripping his collar and hoists him off his feet. Ichabod flails, feeling his airways tighten. He slaps Abrahams hand to let him go. "Don't you _ever_ , call me a murderer again. Ever. You hear me? Or I'll make it true." he snaps, abruptly uncurling his fingers and letting Crane drop to the floor, heaving and gasping, massaging his throat, watching as Abraham leaves. 

"Abraham!" he yells. "Abraham!" he manages to get to his feet. "I didn't mean that, I'm sorry" he continues but Abraham is already gone. 

He hovers there in the ring a moment longer contemplating how he could have said something so insensitive and stupid. Well because you were defending her, Ichabod. Defending her reputation and honour, like some horrible cliche. But he admits to himself then that yes,he's grown protective of Abbie in this short span of time. 

But that doesn't make what he said to his best friend justified. 

In the midst of all that---he's disturbed by how quickly Abraham turned to such violent anger. 

* * *

 

 

Jenny and Katrina are laughing and bantering as they work on their clients. A couple who want matching tattoos. 

They'd both argued strongly against the idea but they had insisted so---customer is always right. 

They're hearts wrapped in barbed wire, behind exposed rib bones. That's the other thing. They're both rib tattoos. And the women had warned them this would hurt. 

"Next time you'll pick some place meatier, eh JenJen?"

"If they survive this one," she crows and the couple wince at the pair making fun of them at their own expense but still look lovingly at one another. "True love," Jenny crows. "I hope to live to see the day."

"What about Joe?" Katrina snickers. 

Jenny wipes away excess ink before going in again. "ssh" she soothes the woman, "You're doing great. What about Joe?"

"Oh come on we're not in high school, you're close right?" 

"Like friends." Jenny emphasizes. "Besides, this is grossly unprofessional." she cuts in, diverting her friend from this personal topic of conversation while effecting Pandora's posh tonality.  

"Oh Dora's going to love hearing that one. I told her you do a spot on impression of her and she doesn't believe me." 

"Well I do now," Pandora drawls in amusement as she saunters from the back. She takes up post behind the front desk, flipping through the appointment book. 

"Hey. Morning Pandora," Jenny greets, concentrating on her shading. 

"Morning," Katrina joins in but Pandora merely smiles faintly at them before she goes back to the book. 

The women exchange a glance. "You almost done there Jenny?" 

"Just finishing this part---done." they drop their needles. 

"We'll do this in two parts since you want colour. Sitting that long is torture" Jenny explains as they plaster the beautifully rendered outlines and send them up to Pandora to ring through. They make a date for the pair to come back to finish off and once done turn back to Pandora. 

"Dora," Katrina starts warily, touching her sisters shoulder. "Dora, are you alright?"

"Hmm? oh but it's a beautiful day why trouble yourself with the brooding of this old crone?" she jokes but its without humour. 

"Today's not the day for that, your majesty" Jenny says. "You seem…out of it."

Pandora sighs at last, running a hand through her dark hair. "Captain Irving called Harmon last night. I don't know what it's about." 

"I'm sure it's nothing," Katrina lies, meeting eyes with Jenny. 

Jenny purses her lips. She can't lie to friends and so says nothing. 

* * *

 

 

"Aww get outta here Mills you check that clock one more time I'm gonna scream." Joe scolds. 

Abbie gives a goofy grin and Joe groans. "You remember which side you're on? mine"

"Oh don't give me that Joe. You're doing great. You're finally winning matches. Winning some money---we're on the right track."

"But I need to win that championship to pay for dad's treatment." He stretches and leans on the rope. "And I need my coach to focused in order for me to do that."  

Chastened, Abbie drops her gaze. "You're right. You are. I'm sorry. You're a priority Joe, you and August, you are, and I won't jeopardize that."

"It's not that you don't deserve a social life, you do---you're so knee slap happy lately I can barely stand you---it's just, get me through this first before you lose focus completely? can you do me that favour?" 

Abbie claps a hand on his shoulder. "Of course Joe. You have my word. Now," she backs away, hands him water and towel. "Go home, rest up. Another day tomorrow. Some suckers in for a pummelling." 

"Night coach."

"Night Baby Joe," she coos and Joe flips her a rather rude hand signal as he exits. 

"You're right on time man," Joe greets as he passes Crane at the door, toting a bag over his shoulder. Gym's nearly deserted at this hour. There's two gents doing weights in a corner and one lone woman punishing herself on the treadmill. But he's got eyes for Abbie who jumps down from the ring and approaches him with such evident restraint in her limbs he wonders if it doesn't hurt. 

She wants to throw her arms around him, honestly. She's fallen into a rapid state of intense like with Ichabod Crane and it terrifies her. Honestly? it's messy. He's mentoring literally the competition, a man who landed the death blow to her father---and he apologized to their mom, there's that, but facts are facts and she hasn't spoken to Abraham since knocking him out at Mighty Fine. 

And she's seen the way people are in this business. The way they change. Even Joe has become a sort of brute she didn't think he was capable of being. He's anxious and working hard and he used to be the laid-back jovial one. She tries to remember it's because he has a lot riding on this. But then there's also the injuries and --- _your dead father_ \---and to put it mildly, Abbie's still a little afraid of getting too close. 

But she wants to try. She doesn't know what it is about him but grief, she wants to try with Ichabod Crane. 

"Hey,"

"Good evening," he greets. "Joe doing well?"

"Exceptional. Abraham?"

Crane clears his throat. "Likewise. Well. After you?"

* * *

The lights are off in the pool again and Crane is about to ask why when a green neon two piece begins to stalk around the perimeter of the pool. He squints. "Abbie?" he asks, paddling away from the edge. All he can hear is her laugh. "You're glowing. Or your swim suit is."

"Caroline made it some years ago when we used to do night shows," she explains, and all Crane can do is watch as electric green top and bottom plunge into the water and begin swimming towards him. 

"What is this made of exactly, it seems to carry its own light," genuinely fascinated by how she illuminates the water around her until she's close enough and he can see her face in the  greenish half light. 

"I try not to question Caroline and her creations. She's hard to turn off once you get her going." She glides past him, close enough his fingers graze her stomach as she passes, her fingers catch at his. "Come on," she urges, bathed in only the glow of her swimsuit and otherwise blanketed in darkness, Abbie feels bold. "Swim with me." 

* * *

 

They race.

She wins three out of five but she suspects he let her have the last one. "Hey don't you ever throw a race with me again. I can hold my own. I'm a big girl I'm not gonna throw a tantrum if I don't win."

"Truth be told Abbie I just wanted to watch you take off in that suit. It's enchanting. Do you not perform at night anymore?"

"Children are unpredictable audience members at that hour. Not enough adult interest."

"I'm interested." he says pointedly, treading water close to her. "I'd be there every night to see you like this." 

Bless the darkness he can't see her blush. "Yeah well." she dunks him under the water and swims away. When he surfaces, spluttering and irritable he gives chase. She laughs with delight as she ducks and dodges around him and he's easily distracted by the grace of her. 

And then he has an idea.  He takes a deep breath. 

"Crane?" she yelps when something grabs her foot and tugs her under the water before he breaks the surface with her in his arms, grinning from ear to ear. "You jerk!" she splutters, gently rolling out of his arms back into the water, but still she stays close. 

"Just a bit of fun, I'm sorry did I scare you?" he asks, abruptly concerned. She drifts closer to him, flicking water in his hair. 

"Honestly Crane?" she chews her lip. "yeah. Since I met you I've been terrified."

His brow furrows. "Why?"

"Because….I feel….strange, with you. A good strange." she corrects hurriedly. "I know where you stand, I'm pretty sure. But I don't think I've told you, I like you Crane. Too much probably."

"Oh?"

She shrugs, hiding a grin. "Joe told me off for being distracted earlier."

Crane gives his hearty laugh. "Abraham accused me of the same thing. I like you 'too much' it would seem as well." 

Abbie licks her lips. "So, what do we do about it?"

"I see little alternative but this," and he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, legs kicking gently still in the water, he tucks wet strands behind her ear and brushes his lips against hers. Gently, gently, slowly, until a hand reaches up to the back of his neck and she draws closer still, chest to chest and her mouth opens slightly and his tongue dips in. 

Still they temper this moment between them, savouring this time for exploration, taste and feel as they begin to kiss harder, deeper. The water ripples around them and they drift to the wall of the pool. She shivers when her back touches it but Crane is there, caging her in, hands on her behind holding her up and he is warm heat and the water temperature seems to be rising or else its just her. She locks her legs around his waist, feeling absurdly reckless and not caring and they just keep kissing, chasing after one another when they gasp for air. Oh. She thinks as she feels him pressing into her and pulls him closer still, rocking against him. It feels good.

Too good. 

Too soon. 

He breaks away first. "Abbie." he breathes. "Abbie," he says again, smiling and cupping her face. "That was….beyond my imagination." he begins to extricate himself from her, hands now lightly gripping hers. "Amazing. That, you, are amazing."

"But?"

"I've sensed you holding back from me." he says softly, drifting close enough to kiss her forehead. "And I am not a man that rushes. Although now that I've tasted your lips I know I have an Abbie tooth"

She lets out a flustered laugh. "A what?"

Crane smirks as he gets out of the pool and turns to help her out. When she's standing he pulls her against him and kisses her again, softly, sweetly. "It's like my sweet tooth," he elaborates. "But specifically pertains to you."

"Are you comparing me to a confectionary?"

"There's no comparison to be had." he murmurs, "You are easily the most tantalizing, delicious, scrumptious, mouthwatering thing I've ever tasted. I could _devour_ you." 

Shivers dance up and down her spine. "And yet?"

"At your pace. Not a hair faster." he steps away, keeping her hand in his. At the showers he winks at her. "And when you're ready, I'll have my fill." 

Abbie lets the water run _ice cold_. 

* * *

Past

"Hey Lori," Nevins greets the following week. "I was wondering, if you're going to prom."

"Oh. Yes. I am. Someone even asked me."

His face falls. "Who."

"That guy over there? the premature silver fox?" she laughs and shrugs. "I don't know, he seems alright. I said sure."

Nevins shakes his head. " _August asked you?_ "  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell August?
> 
> how about that swim date, eh?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'mma just leave this here.
> 
> a familiar face.

Past

Lori blinks at her friend, perplexed. "Yesterday afternoon, between third and fourth."  

Nevins can't help but feel blindsided. "But, you…Lori you don't even know him…."

"And?"

"I do…..You know me, we're friends…."

She nods over his shoulder, begins shuffling through her worksheets, looking for the latest assignment. " And I've been watching Bethany over there ogle you for the past three weeks."

"Beth---" when he turns in his seat there is, in fact, across the caf,  a red headed girl, not  bad looking girl  glaringly plain  beside Lori. He frowns. 

"She _likes_ you Atticus," she says, nudging him, as if he's suppose to think its good news. 

"But I don't _like_ her," he rambles. "Lori I like---" 

"Hey Lor," 

Nevins cringes at the sound of Augusts voice over his shoulder. He grits his teeth and turns slowly in his chair. 

"August," she nods. "This is Atticus."

"Psha. I know Atticus. We're buds. These are the rest of the fellas. Frank Irving--" who gives a curt sharp nod. 

"Mr President," she murmurs and earns herself one of Frank's renown slow smiles. 

"And Ezra Mills," he slams a hand in Ezra's back making him stumble forward. 

"Heh heh. Ezra," he greets, offering his hand. When Lori reaches to shake it, he's not surprised by her firm grip. In fact he smiles too wide. Nevins clenches his fist. He can't decide if he's irked with Ezra's blatant fawning or, August, or both. Frank has the pleasure of being a mere bystander. 

"Well that's the gang. Figured I'd prepare you before night of, so you don't get culture shock."

"How very, kind, of you August." she purrs, gaze lingering on Ezra who only then seems to remember he's still got Lori's hand clasped in his. 

August cocks a brow. "Do you mind? Ask your own date would you?" punching Ezra in the arm and he waves to Lori. "Hey let me know what colour dress you get, matching and corsage and all that." he gives a thumbs up, and slinging his arm around Ezra's shoulder, and Frank hooking an arm through his, force Ezra to stop gaping at Lori and march him out the caf doors. 

"Those are your friends." she asks, a smile tugging her lips. "Interesting bunch."

"Nerd, jock, the by the books straight laced one and the other joker." Nevins grumbles. 

"We'll all have fun that night. Go ask Beth." she urges, either completely oblivious or willfully ignoring that Nevins had been on the verge of confessing his maddening crush. But before he can voice anything Lori is rising from the table, bag in hand. 

"See you in class. And hurry up before someone else gets to her," she chides gently. 

Nevins watches her leave, deflated and defeated, thinking only that Lori's warning is too late. 

"Someone already got to you, Lori." 

When Bethany Calver musters up the nerve two days later, Atticus Nevins will say yes. 

He has little choice.

* * *

 

Present

"Ooooh don't touch me you're cold as a dead body," Jenny shivers as Abbie joins her in the car. "what'd you do, swim in the arctic?"

"The water in the shower was cold."

"That's not just cold you're freezing."

"I needed to cool off!" Abbie snaps tersely. 

Jenny blinks at her sister before grinning ear to ear. 

 "don't start."

"Man gets you hot in bothered in a pool, I think its a tale worth sharing," 

"No way."

"Come on," Jenny pleads, starting up the car. "Give me something, tell me what dirty things did he whisper to you in the water." 

"He said he could devour me."

Jenny turns in her seat to face her, eyes glinting like a mischievous devil. "Oh you are _not_ going to sleep until you tell me everything." 

* * *

 

When Harmon comes in the apartment is dark and too quiet. Until a light clicks on. He doesn't jump. Doesn't spook. It is not the first time Pandora has launched an interrogation like this on him when he gets in. It's  a habit of hers to worry about him--Pandora's no fool, she knows her man isn't up to any good, but what do you do with a man who was already on the wrong end of the law when she met him? Fell for him? 

Men like Harmon don't just up and change because they fall in love. He tries to keep her out of it. But he shows no inclination to leave this life behind. "Beloved," he rumbles, slowly kicking off his shoes, back to her.

"Where have you been."

"We both know we can't risk you having answers to something like that," he replies. "It's a liability."

If he gets caught, he means. 

If by some sheer dumb luck he finds himself being put through a trial the last thing he needs is Pandora getting subpoenaed and sent up on the stand. And then watching her have to either lie or betray him. It's better off she can truthfully claim ignorance. 'He's a bad man doing illegal things' and that would be the end of it. 

She bites her lips together and tucks a strand behind her ear. "You know what I mean. What did the captain want."

"It's late, Pandora." he intones, meaning to close the argument. 

"Harmon Odesu tonight will be the first---" he stares her down but she presses on "---one of the first times I've demanded answers of you. I will have them before you lie in my bed. What did Captain Irving want." 

Bracing against the wall he hangs his head. After a beat she approaches him and is horrified to find a stray tear wandering down the side of his face. "Randall is dead." he says simply and walks away, her comforting hands falling away from his shoulders as he departs. 

* * *

He'd gone in right after the phone call to speak with Frank. Had to meet behind the tattoo parlour because it wouldn't do for Frank irving to be seen keeping company with Harmon Odesu at the twenty four hour diner. "Let's keep this nice and quick HO." Frank had began. "When was the last time you saw Randall Crenshaw."

"It has been some time," he'd admitted slowly. "His addiction drove him out of my grasp months ago." He'd checked either side of the dark alley. "His peers lower than mine" 

"How much lower. Cause I've got word of a body on my hands."

"You mean to implicate, me"

"Not at all. See, he was running an 'errand' to kill a man, and found himself dead in the process."

Harmon had stayed silent. For once he doesn't have answers or cryptic quips. 

"You're listening. Good" Frank surmises. "Now. They found this in Crenshaw's system. His victim had it on him too. Now, here's where the fun starts HO---do you recall what they found in Ezra Mills when he died?"

"Captain this case is out of your jurisdiction." He says instead, glancing at the region listed on the autopsy report for Randall. Frank shouldn't even be showing him this. 

"Oh. I know. But I've got friends in high places. In fact, he's bringing his investigation closer to home. Now I'm gonna ask you one more time HO. You see any correlation between these reports?"

"I didn't kill anyone."

"No. But looks like I've got grounds to take you in. Or someone's clever enough to frame you."

"You can't prove anything"

 Frank raises his brows. "I don't have to go far to prove anything about you, Harmon. Think about it. I'll give you a day. _Think hard_. After that I get a warrant. And I'd bet Pandora won't like me turning her shop upside down either. Besides being bad for business, who knows what you're hiding there. Hmm? Get back to me."

"The Ezra case was malpractice and wasn't proven."

"I didn't come about Ezra. I wanna know why Randall died. Whoever hired him to play hit man took advantage of his habit and set that up as insurance so he wouldn't talk afterwards. And I'm gonna let you off easy for knowing so much about Ezra's case. For now. We have a nice thing going here HO. I scratch your back you scratch mine. Don't screw it up."

* * *

 

At Mighty Fine the next day Abbie stops short when she walks in. Her mother is laughing with him as he leans over the counter. Calling for his favourite. Strawberry Shortcake. Blue berries on top. Because he loves blue berries. He used to feed them to her, laughing: The darker the berry the sweeter the juice. 

That was before he left.

 Before she told him she didn't love him enough to leave. 

"Luke?"

"Abbie!" he crosses the room without hesitation, throwing his arms around her.

"What---what are you doing here?"

"I'm FBI." he confides with a grin. "I'm working a case so they sent me back in here. Meeting with Frank later. Damn you look good." he smiles, appraising her. 

Abbie swallows around the golf ball in her throat. "You, too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like we're playing connect the dots here.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well well

"Well," August coughs to announce himself in Frank's doorway. Frank glances up, rolling his eyes. 

"I can't make things go any faster than they're willing to go, August."

"But you must have something."

"First off you wanna tell me how you got word of Randall Crenshaw to begin with?"

"It made news out there." August grunts. "They named a drug. You know what it reminded me of."

"So a lark and you call in?"

"I didn't know there was any sort of investigation already going. But once I heard."

"You figured, what the hell. It must be the same thing." He shakes his head. "You're a piece of work, you know that. Have been since I met you. Orchestrating lives like a damn puppet master but don't know how the final act plays out. Well let me tell you how it goes, Corbin. You took your boy and ran the last time you think he's gonna like hearing you're poking around here again? Hell no he's not and I've got a Federal Agent coming in here today and he's gonna _dig_ "

August swallows. "Let him."

"Just burn everyone's damn house to the ground with you, that it? I should've peaced out on the three of you in high school. Here." he throws folder across the desk to him. With trembling hands August lifts it. "Open the damn thing this ain't Christmas." Frank snaps. 

Cautiously, he opens the file, reading carefully. "Shit."

"There you go."

"Frank it's gotta be the same--"

"Even so we can't prove it was Nevins that set up Randall. Randall was a known addict, he could've gotten it from anywhere. Now I'm just hoping I can make my contact sweat enough to drop me some details but, August." Frank purses his lips. "Without someone jumping up to say they witnessed any of this? I don't got squat to collar him for even handling the stuff. You better hope---Morales." Frank's face cracks into an instant smile as a figure fills the doorway behind August. Luke grins. 

"Frank. Excuse me." he sidesteps carefully around August and crossing the room throws his arms around the man  he called mentor. 

"Wish these were better terms but it's good to have you back in here."

"Good to be back, Sir." He smiles and then looks over his shoulder at Corbin. "Luke Morales, FBI."

"August Corbin" 

"If you're lucky you won't see much more of that face there," Frank warns. "It gets uglier over time." 

August cuts his eye at Frank who gives his signature smirk in return and makes his exit. "I'll be in touch Frank."

"Uh huh. Make sure you let the door hit you on your way out." he calls. 

"Sir?"

"Morales. I'm gonna be honest with you here. There's a chance this case can get personal. I don't like it. I don't trust it. But we've got jobs to do and….well if you could brief me…."

Luke screws up his mouth, instantly not liking the imposition. But Franks got ears around town and he stores information. He accused August of manipulating but he's got a special knack for it himself. 

"Listen you might run up on some coincidences with the death of Ezra Mills." he pauses for effect, meeting Luke's calculating eyes."Yes. Abbie and Jenny's father. We understand each other?"

"Not sure we do."

"Keep an eye on those girls for me. Keep em safe if you need to. Whatever else you come across,  I'd appreciate if I can hear it first."

* * *

 

"FBI huh." Jenny drawls. Her and Abbie are at the park. Jenny's sketching as she listens to Abbie tell her about the odd collision. "Well good for him. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. Old flame showing up in town same time that you start stoking another fire…." she trails off. "Sounds….complicated."

"There's nothing to complicate. Luke and I are finished and Crane and I……we're still getting to know one another but I'm…..pretty committed to that right now. And I think he is too." 

"Well, if you're sure, good. All joking aside, you like that goof don't you, even in spite of everything?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Abbie demurs with a coy smile. 

"Oh, you  know what I mean" Jenny elbows her. "Him being insufferable at the start---"

"It grows on you. Anyway, butt out of my personal affairs, what about---"

"If you say Joe I am deserting you on this park bench."

Her sister snickers. 

"I don't know what it is between you and Katrina, got me like, " she grabs her hoodie and slings it over her head, like a giant handkerchief and sways from side to side, palms pressed together. "Matchmaker matchmaker make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch--no thank you," she harrumphs, flinging it down on her lap and Abbie keels over laughing. Jenny's closet love of broadway is nothing short of an amusing spectacle when she breaks out her favourite show tunes to illustrate a point. Especially entertaining because Jenny verges terribly close on being tone-deaf. 

"Are you finished?"

"Why don't you sing 'Tradition' and have done with it?"

"Oh screw you Abbie," she grins, rising from the table. "My break is over. Catch you later?"

"No actually."

"Oooh. Date with Crane?"

"Actually….no. Luke wants to get together to catch up. Don't say it."

Jenny flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Say what, I told you so? wouldn't dream of it." she winks. "later sis." 

* * *

 

They'd argued that night after Harmon had told her exactly how well his chat with Frank Irving had gone. 

"A warrant? _A warrant_? Harmon---"

He raised a hand to silence her. "Don't, ask me what for Pandora. It's best---"

"What, that I don't know? How long am I supposed to live on that Harmon? How long am I supposed to exist with you living in half light?" 

"Beloved--"

"My birth name will do."

"You knew the kind of man I was, when you met me," he ground out. 

"But I didn't know the life that came with it. I've been good, all these years, haven't I? Quiet as a mouse?" she'd queried, eyes darting to and fro trying to catch his. "I have been good, to you, you could stand to be the same."

"Do you mean to say I do not provide for you" he shot back. "That I do not toil to make you smile?"

"The manner in which you _'toil'_ for my joy pales in comparison to the ways you ' _toil'_ to bring me sorrow. I walk on egg shells with you. An eye half open, one ear unstopped while I sleep, waiting for footsteps that might not be yours to come into our home--worried one day the unnameable things you do will come to our door and I an unwitting fool will welcome them in none the wiser." 

"I have never let harm come to you."

"But you let threats be levelled at my place of work. I deserve to know what it is you hide from me and the Captain that would draw him to my door. What web of yours weaves in my place of business?" 

"This conversation is closed."

"You turn out of that door now." She'd commanded him. "You take your secrets and darkness with you until you deign to let sunlight in Harmon."

"Pandora," he'd began in staunch disbelief. 

"Do I stutter?" she'd reached for his shoes, handing them to him. "Leave. When you find the key to the lock on your mouth you may use it to unlock the front door, but until then," and she'd held her hand open to him and in dazed amazement, he'd fished in his back pocket for the house key and had let Pandora gently push him back over the threshold. 

"Beloved," he'd pleaded. 

"After all this time, I know now what that word means to you," she'd cast one more glance over her shoulder. "Ignorant. Well, fool no longer, Harmon. Goodnight."

* * *

 

Knocking at the door and August curses.  That's got to be  Lori again, she's been bringing him food and treats for the past few weeks. He never asked her, but she won't stop. Not since she heard he's trying to see Nevins in jail. 

And maybe she's soft on the man too because August Corbin played a pivotal role in her life.

She didn't know it then. 

* * *

Past

Lori went shopping with Bethany Calver for prom dresses.

Bethany cooing and twittering about Atticus and it was all Lori could do not to scream in her frustration. She wasn't really friends with Bethany, but she was nice enough, and besides, since their dates are friends, it seemed to only make sense they would shop together, prevent the other from buying something ridiculous. Or clashing colours.

You know, the important stuff. 

"You'll look nice in blue," Bethany had smiled, pulling out a jewel tone dress with a tiered skirt. Cinched waist. Strapless. "And, it'll go with his eyes." she'd added. Lori had tried it on, adding it to the maybe pile, but it was a soft pink dress with rainbow coloured tulle beneath the skirt that had won her heart. 

"Pink will wash him out," Bethany frowned and Lori had rolled her eyes. 

"Worry about not making Atticus look sallow all right? Don't know what's wrong with you, looking at a girl with your hair and Atticus complexion and thinking yellow is a good idea." she'd tutted. "Here, you try that one," she'd suggested, roughly shoving the blue dress Bethany had liked toward her. "This is my dress here. If August doesn't look good in pink that'll be his problem."  She was twirling and admiring herself in the mirror, and, she would admit, struggling to picture August beside her in a matching tie, with his borderline winter  hair and pale blue eyes. To hell with it. No one pays attention to the guy at prom anyways, it'll be all of the girls fawning and flattering one another. Exclaiming how lovely was this one, how beautiful is that----who let her out the house in that thing---can't she tell it doesn't fit?---those were the voices she'd need to worry about not if August looked pale. 

Ezra had been confused by August adamantly insisting he wear pink to prom. Bewildered, by the colourful diamond pattern tie he had forced upon him. 

"I don't know August. Pink?" he'd turned around in the tuxedo. It had been a hard thing to find, the colour being so unconventional but his best friend had taken it into his head that he NEEDED a pale pink suit. 

"Look it's practically beige. It's subtle."  Twisting in the mirror again Ezra had glanced at his friend warily. 

"Subtle my---"

"He'll take it!" August told the shop assistant. 

On prom night Lori got the phone call from August that he had a cold, couldn't possibly make it out tonight. "Oh." She'd said, deflated. All dressed up and now nowhere to go.

So she'd thought.

"Oh you're going to prom." August had said, too brightly in hindsight. "Limo and everything is on its way, I've even got a back up set up for you."

"A back---" and the door had rang. 

And there was Ezra Mills.

In the pale pink suit and brightly coloured tie that August had made him buy, after Lori had told him the colour of her dress. He'd blinked at her in shock---he hadn't expected to match, not at all. Later on he would thank August for his conniving but in the moment he was too stunned by the beautiful picture Lori painted standing there. 

"How did you, get a tux that, matched?" she'd asked slowly, trying to fit pieces together. Not that she wasn't pleased. Ezra was a handsome man, the pastel tone off set his dark skin beautifully, the way it did hers. His tie matching the tulle in her skirt. 

It would dawn on her later, when they were sharing their first slow dance,  "August orchestrated this, didn't he. All along?"

"He's a character." Ezra had murmured. "I'm thankful to him for it. If you're enjoying yourself that is."

She'd looked up to meet his eyes. "I am. Immensely." 

August will be beaming with too much pride later when Ezra tells him how well the evening went. 

They would laugh about it when the guys all got together on the weekend. 

Only Nevins wouldn't laugh at how clever August had been.

Only Nevins would never quite forgive him for it. 

* * *

Present.

Were it not for August's meddling, Lori wouldn't have had Ezra, and her daughters, and all the joys that followed.

And thanks to August, all the horrors that had followed too. 

But she doesn't know that.

So she's a been a good friend dropping things off for him, chatting to him, trying to pry about what he's found out----and he keeps his lips shut because he's not sure exactly how much he should tell--but she keeps him company. So when the knock comes at the door, he hollers. "Come on in Lor, what did you bring me today?"

"Some chicken soup." a new voice says. A familiar, though craggy one. Atticus Nevins saunters into his kitchen and August tenses. "Heard you were sick August." he pulls a frown as he draws nearer, plopping a paper bag on the counter. " I had to hear it, would you believe, like gossip. I'm hurt  you didn't even bother to tell me, your dear old friend, that you were back in town." 

Shifting uncomfortably he mutters,"Didn't want to trouble you Atticus."

"Oh no," Nevins brushes it off, opening the bag and taking out the container of soup, pulling off the lid and hunting around for a spoon before handing it off to August. "You're no trouble to me at all August." Nevins beady eyes snap to his, holding his gaze. " _Are you_?" 


	17. Chapter 17

"My troublemaking days are long behind me Atticus," he coughs a laugh, as he turns the spoon over and over in the broth. Nevins studies him. 

"Drink the damn thing I'm not gonna poison you." 

"Poison? Hell, that's not your style is it? In the soup of all things? no I'd expect you to swap my pills." 

Atticus stares him down another moment before his face splits into a grin and begins to laugh. "Well your sense of humour doesn't ail you. That's good to know." he chuckles, rising and slapping him on the shoulder too hard. The soup sloshes over the rim of the cup. He rubs his hands together. "So tell me, what can I do for you buddy?"

August is still studying the contents of the soup, sniffing it now that Nevins is sauntering around the kitchen with his back turned. "Run that by me again"

"Oh there must be something." Nevins swings around abruptly, kneeling to be at level with August's face. The suddenness of it spooks August properly this time and he jostles the soup entirely, all down his front. Nevins sneers. "You're jumpy," he observes, reaching back into the paper bag for the rough brown napkins and leans in to dab off his chest. 

"Everything's shot about me these days," he explains. 

"Pity. Now, There must be something," Nevins continues, tossing the napkin aside and taking the now empty container out of August's hands. "Way I hear it, Death's knocking at your door,"

Knocking. 

Nevins raises a brow. "Dear me am I late?"

"August?"

Nevin's eyes widen and his hands still. 

"August?"

"In here Lor," August croaks. 

"Not mom today, just me dropping this off quick I'm headed out to---Mr. Nevins." Abbie ticks her gaze between the two men. The bag  clutched in her hand. August quirks a brow at her because she's dressed strange.

 She'd been on her way out the door to meet with Luke before her mother had nabbed her--flummoxed over a sprung leak at the bakery and now headed over to deal with it and: Could you just run this by August on your way? She'd obviously said yes. 

She feels self conscious now in her long dress, a billowing bohemian thing with full length sleeves in mourning dove grey. Hair pulled back. When her hair is down and she accessorizes right--she looks glamourous and chic. With her hair up and her makeup plain, Abbie direly hopes she'll come across as nothing short of matronly. She's even wearing closed toe flats. She wants no possibility of anything sparking for Luke whatsoever. 

"Abbie Mills," he greets, rocking back on his heels. "You're dressed nice,"  he nods to her dress and she shifts in it. 

Her skin flushes and she bites her lips together. There was a time when Atticus Nevins had been a family friend and someone her and Jenny had gladly accepted sweets from, picking up things for their father. But that was many years ago, and don't ask her how they've managed to stay clear of him this long in a town as small as Sleepy Hollow but she's rather glad they did, wouldn't have minded if they could have kept it that way. 

"Set it down there girl," August instructs, noting her discomfort. "Thank you. Thank your mother for me. Have….fun, wherever you're off to." 

"No place exciting," she says slowly, still surveying Nevins.  She can't begin to fathom what reason he would have to be here visiting August. "You call if you need anything," she says meaningfully. 

August nods gratefully and Abbie gives  a small smile before heading for the door. 

Once she's gone Nevins takes to ransacking the bag, "Oh my," he whispers, lifting out a pie. "This her apple pie? Oh my Lori, she must have known I'd be visiting you here today," he sneers, taking the liberty to look for a knife and plates. 

"Please have a slice." August grumbles. 

"Oh I will. You know I haven't had anything made by the hands of Lori Mills since…..oh….well, the red velvet she'd made at Ezra's wake. She wouldn't open her bakery for some years after that and I never visited."

"All this time you've never been to Mighty Fine?"

"Oh I'm sorry, August," Nevins spits, stalking toward him with pie in one hand, knife in the other. "Have you been around longer than I was lead to believe? Or did you not skip town not a year after Ezra died and never looked back. Wonder why."

August rises out of his seat, towering but leaning over his old friend. "Cut the crap Nevins what is it you want."

"August I'm hurt, you know I've always been in the habit of helping you out when I can. You know they say people like to wrap up loose ends before they die. Make amends with folks….." he takes a bite of pie and swallows. "Right wrongs." he smacks his lips together. "You got any of those August? Looking to repent for anything?" and his eyes narrow. 

"I must look damn stupid to you."

"No you look like half the man I knew. The yellow belly that made a wager and ran."

"You threatened me." he growls. "Said you'd….said you'd see me in jail if I spoke."

"You know you're right. I'm foolish to think you'd come all the way back here to try and see yourself in lock up. Because that's where this will land you, Corbin. If you're about what I think you are, we'll all burn. And you know about that, don't you?" 

Finishing up his bites he dashes the plate to the ground, watching it splinter with satisfaction. 

"I don't know what you're talking about Atticus."

" _My God, August_." he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock horror "For all our sakes. I sure hope you don't. Take care of yourself Corbin. Don't spend your final days getting yourself in muck."

"Sounds more like a warning than advice."

 Nevins pauses in the door way and bares his teeth. "Make of it what you like." 

* * *

 

"Abbie," Luke greets. It's a cool summer evening and he's wearing a grey button up with slack, a few buttons undone. She's disconcerted by the fact they inadvertently match.  

"Hey, haven't been here in a  while." It's Aromas, a nice place and honestly it's fancier than Abbie would have liked it to be. She had no desire for this to feel like a date, and now, he pulls out her chair and there's already a bottle of wine on the table, it just became one. 

"Yeah, I figured, a little nostalgia, right?" 

Wrong she thinks, but not unkindly. Of course Luke would pick the place they frequented the most way back then. It had fond memories. Still holds them. 

This will be the first time that Abbie will wish that they hadn't had such a civil break up. She wishes now, as the waiter brings around the menu and Luke cracks some joke she pretends to hear with the waiter about the selection, that he'd been a dog, a brute, someone she'd been properly mad at. 

She wishes they'd fought and argued and had deep heart break and had parted amidst a screaming match. 

Not that she had told him, _"You're not enough for me to leave everything I know"_

And that he hadn't said, _"Well that's a big whole to fill. But less still than the one you'll leave in my life."_

She wishes he hadn't cleared his things out of the apartment they'd been living in for all of six months with such quick efficiency, helped her pack her things too in the process--had even moved her back into her mothers house. 

She wishes she'd hated him. It would be easier to dismantle whatever ideals he's cooked up in his head about getting together tonight. 

No doubt with his new wages and his fancy title---though he knows better---he'll feel like maybe he has a little bit more to offer this time around. "Abbie?" he calls gently. "Are you ready to order?" 

"You pick," she defers, distracted now by the fact that nothing about this place has changed and she feels like she somehow managed to step out of her new life back into the past. Not so long ago. 

But long enough to feel the ill fit of it. 

When he orders her old favourite Abbie takes a sip of her wine. Luke hands the waiter their menus and then leans forward, eyes sparkling. He was good to you, she recalls. He really was. So you ought to be upfront with him, starting now. "Luke," she begins. 

"Abbie," 

"Listen. Agreeing to this might have been a bad idea, I'm…I'm kind of seeing someone,"

* * *

 

"You're good to go" Nevins smiles. 

"Good form," Crane agrees, frowning at Abraham that's pacing to and fro. "This ought to be a quick night."

"Good, keep up like this, that  belt will be yours. Stay hungry, stay mean, keep everyone else away from it. I don't care if it's Angel of Death or Baby Joe--slay'em."

Abraham nods, clearly distracted. 

"Atticus Nevins I insist that as a medical practitioner you are far too invested in his athletic accomplishments as opposed to his ailments and injuries and I would politely request you leave the pep talks and scheming to me. He's my client. I manage him. I make his deals." Crane interjects, voice tight. 

Nevins glares at him before his eyes snap open and he claps his hands together as if suddenly delighted. "Oh and by the way, I'm surprised you're here." Nevins says, addressing Crane. He frowns.

"It's a fight night" he replies curtly. " _Of course I'm here_."

"Oh I wouldn't know," Nevins shrugs. "I saw your girl earlier, all dressed up, looked to me like she was going on a date. I assumed it was with you. Give em hell out there Abraham," he gives Abraham the thumbs up and wink before heading back out. 

When they call for Abraham he grunts his frustration with Ichabod who seems unable to move. 

But Crane is standing in the middle of the room, dumbstruck by what he just heard. 


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm happy for you Abbie." he nods, a barely concealed grimace. "It's good that you're, happy."

"I think you'd like him," she's quick to add, wincing internally at the barb of her words. 

"Oh, I'd doubt that," Luke laughs. "You might've mentioned it before I ordered." 

"I'm sorry"

"I'm _kidding_ , Abbie." he leans back, twirling the stem of the glass and then heaves a heavy sigh. "But while we're being upfront about things. I've got something to tell you. This goes against all of my rules but---well you know how I am when it comes to you."

"You make an exception." She says slowly, wary of the new turn this conversation has taken.

"I've gotta be honest with you. Frank said that my case, that it might connect with your family."

The roll she's tearing in two--warm and fresh in her hands---loses all appeal. "Excuse me?"

"Told me to keep an eye on you and Jenny."

"Why would----"

"So I'm gonna ask you, do you know anything." his focus narrows down and his tone of voice takes an edge she's never heard before. It's his work voice, the one that investigates and interrogates and pries and searches and finds answers from the willing and non compliant.

He's using this voice with _her_.

Abbie splutters. "Anything about what?" 

"Anything," he presses. 

"Luke what could I know----"

He throws his hands up in the air. "Well, that's settled, they can't say I didn't ask. Oh that looks good." 

Just like that he's switched gears so fast her head spins and he's craning around her to see the waiter approaching with their food. "You don't mind staying, do you? Keep a guy company?"

She's about to protest, to demand he reroute to his out of the blue questioning when he shakes his head.

"Let's not talk about it Abbie. If you knew something I'd be able to tell, and I did my part in asking." He reaches across the table to grip her hand. "You're not in trouble for anything. And to be honest, I don't even know what Frank thought I would find, but I can't hide things from you. Alright?"

"But, how would I know if I knew something? Why does he think---"

"He mentioned your father."

" _My. Father_."

"Can't say anything more than that babe," he smiles softly. "You'll jeopardize my job!" and gives her a wink.

She used to like that wink. It meant mischief. She liked mischief. Still does, only, it's denying her now. And that smarts. 

"I thought I was the exception."

"Don't do that to me now, come on. Please? Besides, you'll see me around plenty if there's anything for you to be concerned about. He also asked me to keep you safe."

"Safe!" she exclaims in shock, dropping her fork, clattering loudly on the plate and several heads turn her way. "Safe?" she hisses, voice considerably lower. From what? from who?"

All he does is shrug as he lifts his fork to his mouth.

"So now what you're my security detail?"

"Listen can we wait till Monday morning before I have to clock in? To old friends." he raises his glass in a toast. 

"To old friends," she clinks weakly.

* * *

 

A groan goes through the crowd. "I don't even think that was ten minutes, Axel."

"No, and spectators are not happy about that tonight."

"He's really living up to his name out there, isn't he."

"All I know is I don't wanna wind up on Van Knock Out's bad side---you might not wake up!"

* * *

 

Nevins kicks back in his chair in his study. New addition to the home he's been steadily building for years. His dream home.  To fill with what---well, not a woman and children---his fixation on the one that got away rather effectively closed off his heart to all others. He's just got prowess to show for it now. Wall of pictures with him and numerous athletes over the years. Football players, MMA Fighters, wrestlers and of course boxing. He wrote a book once, when he'd started out. And he's actually had one or two biographers come out the woodwork for him---and he turns those down. 

Nevins would be the first to tell you he's not on the up and up. 

Last thing he needs is someone telling the world exactly how dirty his hands are. Besides, he's got a new venture he's working on. 

Perfecting the formulation of a top notch drug. His own designer steroid. Harmon has been helping him with it.  It's got two variants. One highly potent and maximum effectiveness, with the usual side effects--he'd like to get it on the market if he could--Nevins Miracle Vitamin. NMV. He just needs to see how well it works first, and, so far so good. He has a buyer lined up once he's perfected it. 

The other addictive and vastly unstable. Reacts badly with high blood pressures and high physical activity, can cause internal bleeding, ruptures, nasty thing---still makes them quick though. Now one might wonder why bother manufacturing the bad egg formula. Calls that one EMM. 

Well, for quiet jobs, like the one he did Crenshaw. He'd gotten word of a copy cat dealer in the city. Trying to match his work. Nevins hasn't spent years in labs, doing his medical research and back alley dealing with a near drug lord for some punk to profit off his labour. 

Randall would do anything for a hit. He'd told him, "Get in, real smooth, Randall. Get my property back. Take him out." and he'd given Randall some of the bad variety. Because:

Randall would do anything for a hit. Even talk. He expected there would be an altercation. Had hoped, really, that it would work.

See thing is, even though Nevins has known for a long time that there was a way to  make this pill deadly---he hasn't been able to replicate it perfectly for over ten years. HO had laid low from him when the media and lawyers had come swarming him with endangerment and malpractice etc charges--he'd had to pay them off so they'd stop poking around. Good thing he had just come into money.

Lots of it. 

He's only just getting back in good form to revisit the old ideal. So he was, in a word, pleased, that Crenshaw had been found dead.  Got the measurements right. That'll sell nice on black market. Keep gang wars nice and quiet---hell he'll be doing a service reducing gun violence. 

This is the mind of Atticus Nevins.

He was Irritated however, and that was his misstep, his fault, sloppy really for being so eager---that they had found remnants of his B grade poison on the mark and in Crenshaws system. He probably should have thought through doing one of Harmon's agents a bad hand, but they hadn't been moving in the same circles for a while. Way out there in the city. Trail ought to go cold. So when the phone rings "HO!" he greets jovially, toying with a globe on the desk.

" _Did you kill, Randall Crenshaw_ "

It's a most unwelcome call. 

* * *

 

"Hello?" Crane answers at the counter the next morning groggily. Even after Abrahams victory, after drinks he was still in a very sour mood all night. Even his own shouted encouragements ringside had been venomous and people near weren't sure if he was cheering for Abraham or against at one point. 

"Hey,"

"Who is this," he sniffs. 

"Crane," she chuckles. "It's me, Abbie."

"Abbie…." he trails off, as if contemplating. "Abbie who?"

"Mills. Abbie Mills, Crane are you okay?"

"I've been in perfect health which is why it eludes me, Miss Mills, why you went out on a date last night and yet I wasn't present?"

"I don't know who's cool-aid you've been drinking but I did not go out on a date last night."

"That's not what I heard."

"What you heard? so what, all this getting to know me crap and all of a sudden you go by what you hear?"

Abraham regards him with interest as he rummages through the fridge, listening to Abbie's tone of voice rise, and Ichabod's lower into a growling thing and quickly snatches the phone out of his hand. "Before you make a complete ass of yourself. Hello?"

"You ever come near me again I'm gonna cram your head so far up your narrow----"

"Abbie? It's Abraham."

"Oh. oh. Sorry, Abraham. What the hell has gotten into Crane?"

"Someone we know says he saw you out with someone last night. Crane's been in a sulk since."

"That's not a sulk." she retorts. "Thats a whiny ass tantrum throwing baby who thinks he can control me and get pissy if I socialize outside of him. You tell him it was an ex boyfriend. And I told him I'm seeing someone you pretentious moron." she shouts the last bit before she hangs up. 

Abrahams glad he put it on speaker for the last bit. He looks pointedly at his friend, then back to the phone. "So?"

"So what."

"How are you going to rectify that situation you've created?"

"She---"

"If you'd been the rational man I know you to be you'd have been the civil gentleman you claim to be. Not that. I don't know," he makes a sweeping gesture encompassing Crane's frame. "What the devil that was there, but you'll be lucky if she doesn't ring up that ex of hers now and tell him there's been a change of plan."

"And you are suddenly the perfect study in emotional control? which reminds me _Abraham_ " Crane rallies, waving an accusing finger in his face, "-- _what_ have you been taking----"

The phone jangles again, interrupting him. Crane warily answers it. "Hello?"

 "Your ass is mine."

" _I beg your pardon?_ "

"It's Jenny, Abbie's sister. And I'm coming over there to kick your ass."

"Miss---" and the line goes dead. 

Abraham begins to whistle, picking at his nails. "She kicked you in the face last time, didn't she? I'd probably make myself scarce." 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!
> 
> What's this, fluff? yes fluff.
> 
> Fluff fluff fluffety fluff. 
> 
> But we getting back to that plot. Don't worry. ^.^
> 
> thanks for reading guys! <3

" _ **Kill**_ Crenshaw! HO I wouldn't harm a fly."

"They found his body at the scene of a crime and Frank Irving called me the other day"

"Irving?" Nevins chuckles as he lights a cigar. "Overgrown pussy cat. He's got nothing on me."

"No but he's holding a warrant over my head."

"So? let him go wild, you can work your way out of whatever whole Irving tries to dig for you."

"It's not me, I'm concerned over."

"Oh now it's interesting," Nevins takes a long drag and exhales. "You been hiding something from---" he drops his voice low,  "--- _ **Beloved**_?" he cackles. "All the secrets you keep and there's always one more eh?"

"To hell with you Nevins. Deals off, I'm going to Irving."

"Gonna pass up your cut of all that pretty cash? I was gonna cut you in even I swear, once I knew it was" he clicks his teeth "Good to go. And you had plans for that dough didn't you? Buy yourself out of all your rotten deeds and move away to set up house with Pandora" he breaks off into cruel mocking laughter. "As if that could ever be a life for _you_. For me. Men like us, don't _get_ that life, HO."

"Careful, Nevins," Harmon warns. "Or you'll forfeit the one you have."

"Ooooh I'm shaking."

"Atticus Nevins. Do not trifle with me."

"I think I've got the upper hand nowadays, Mr. Odesu. Ta!"

* * *

 

When the door swings open and her fist shoots forward she's surprised he catches it. She's also surprised it's not Crane on the receiving end, but a whole lot more man than she had planned on beating up today. 

No matter. 

"Come on get your licking and then Crane gets his." 

"I take it you are 'Jenny'" Abraham says, releasing her hand and stepping away. "I warned Ichabod to run, seeing as your last, conversation, was rather hard on his jaw." 

"You his whipping boy now? Hope it pays well."

"Enough." Abraham quips. "I mean if you're bent on giving him what for, he'll have to come home eventually. Coffee?" 

Jenny quirks a brow, sizing him up, pokes her head in and checks around.

"He's not hiding anywhere in here, could you imagine? Ichabod? hide? His feet peeking out beneath the curtain or his head above the lamp? No everything about Ichabod is wrong for concealing---it's why he never won hide and seek. Neither did I mind you but I was just never very good at it. Sugar? Cream?"

"Black like my soul," she answers smoothly and catches the small smirk that flits across his face. "I should still crack your skull---."

"For…Ezra" he nods in agreement. "I tried to crack my own. If that helps. I haven't been able to give you or Abbie formal apologies. But I am deeply sorry for what I did to your father. It haunted me."

"Yet you dare fight."

"It's all I know. Only dream I ever had. Ezra gave me that. I'm not going to belittle your grief. You lost your father. I lost a father figure. I would gladly go back in time to reverse it but----well, here I am, right here if you like" and he offers his cheek. 

"You do know I would gladly take you up on the offer."

"I mean seeing as Abbie did and was hardly invited to do so, it wouldn't be fair if you didn't. And you've already been short changed beating up Crane." 

"Alright." she stretches, shaking out her fists, cracking her neck. "You're sure?"

"Just not the nose." he cautions, closing his eyes. 

"Here goes."

When he blinks his eyes open Jenny is looming over him. "Do you always fall so smooth?" she asks. Abraham scrunches his eyes tight, tries to settle the feeling of adrenaline rushing through him. 

"Do you all hit so accurately? Look at this hand." he snatches clumsily for the one waving before his face checking if he can follow her fingers. "Look how small it is and yet, here I am. Crane was right about you two you're menaces to society. Back up so I can get up." 

"Yeah well we didn't grow up at a ballet stage."

"Obviously." 

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I have a hard time placing you at the opera."

"Well no, broadway….is more my thing." she finds herself admitting and Abraham scoffs. 

"Ones a mermaid the other likes show tunes but they both fight like Tyson or Ali, or Mayweather." he casts a glance in her direction. "Or Ezra Mighty Mills" 

She grins. "We take after dad. What can I say?"

"Sorry for assaulting me in my own home for starters. You could pretend you didn't mean to hit me that hard at least"

* * *

 

"Abbie you're early." Sophie scolds as they plummet into the water. "You've been a full second earlier than me every time we do that jump--and it shows and it looks messy and that is not you," 

Abbie breaks the surface, gasping, slinging wet strands out of her face. "Get off my case would you Foster"

"We've got a show going on soon and this is supposed to be---thank Danny for his pontificating about it---the biggest show of the year for the park anniversary. He may as well have called us the acquatic Cirque du Soleil. And I'm not looking foolish out there and neither are you now come here," she coaxes and rolling her eyes Abbie swims closer to the prop rock cliff they just flung themselves off of. "Tell cousin Fierce Sophie Foster, what's got your tail in a twist." she giggles. 

Abbie swats at her coworker but smiles. "I've got a lot going on, and my ex turned up in town unexpectedly."

"Oh so this is going to be juicy then," she props her chin on her hands and waits expectantly. Abbie chortles.

"You're as bad as my sister."

"No changing the subject. So this ex of yours, better or worse looking."

"What?"

"Answer the question!" 

"Better!" Abbie snaps back, blinking her eyes in shock. That is _not_ something she's supposed to have noticed. 

"Did he make declarations?" she bats her eyes, " _Overtures_?"

"You have been dying to gossip with me is that it?" 

Sophie shrugs her shoulders, drifting closer and trails a hand lightly on Abbie's arm. "Curious what types you attract is all," she teases.

"Foster are you flirting with me?" she laughs.

"Flirt? Oh Abbie if I were you'd know." she winks. "Anyway, tell me about your issue with Ex."

"Well, that he's my ex for starters. He wanted to catch up---"

"Sure he did"

She cuts her eye at Sophie before continuing. "Anyway, we went to dinner---and don't ask me how but Crane found out and was in such a mood about it, we fought."

"Jealous type?"

"Snide, pretentious, I could feel him looking down his nose at me in righteous indignation."

Sophie looks into the distance, shielding her eyes. "I think I know what that looks like, your man," she points over Abbie's shoulder.

Sure enough, there's Crane. Puffed up and only mildly contrite. "I'm not going over there."

"You are because this routine is supposed to be your comeback to your grand stage and you don't wanna mess that up any more than I do, so." and spins her around and gives her a shove. 

"Miss Mills."

"If you don't say you've come to make amends you can turn around now."

"I would." he says tightly. "But your friend Mr. Reynolds has locked the doors and forbid I leave until we have, resolved our issues."

"Danny locked you in?"

"He says you've been uncooperative and unproductive. Distracted."

She would have words with Danny later over discussing her performance with outsiders---especially men. Last thing someone like Crane needs to know is that a quarrel with him can throw off her game.

"It's not about you. For your information. I've got plenty to distract me."

"Oh I'd wager, so distracted you couldn't tell me your ex was in town?"

"Listen if I'd known going into this I was signing up to babysit---"

"I fail to understand why you didn't just talk to me---"

"----I would have gladly let you go on your way---"

"---I would've understood, but you hid it and----"

"--I'm not gonna have someone watching my every move---"

"--And forgive me being hurt but I know what it's like to be duped---"

"----I've got enough of that going on now as it is---"

"----and it doesn't sit well and---I beg your pardon---?"

"--- I can do without your watching me like a hawk----" 

On the side Danny has emerged and kneels down next to Sophie in the water. "That's not looking good,"

"Doesn't sound good either," she winces as their voices escalate. 

"--Maybe because against all of my restraint I'm dangerously over fond of you---"

"---so over fond you drive me away by being an ass?-----" 

"---I find it very easy to be several types of fool where you're concerned---"

"--You didn't even wait to judge me, didn't hesitate---"

"---Any blind man can see your worth, it must be sheer stubbornness on your part that you were single when I met you to begin with---"

"---this isn't going to be worth anything if you don't trust me----sheer stubbornness?!"

"----I'm surprised they don't call you stone wall---"

_Splash._

Danny claps a hand over his mouth but it doesn't muffle his snickers. 

"Sheer stubbornness is the only thing that has kept me from giving you the throttling you like to court on a daily basis!" Abbie shouts. 

"I don't know why I bother!" Crane splutters. "I must be half mad"

"Oh I'd say full mad mate." Danny hollers helpfully. "Tangling with Mighty Abbie Mills, I'd say you've got a few screws loose."

"Stay out of this Danny!" Abbie warns, whirling on them and diving under the water, there is only a flash of her tail before she springs up in front of him and pulls him in the water as well. 

"Damn Abs!" Danny hoots, wiping water from his face. "Maybe we should make this part of the act!" 

Sophie  begins to swim away from Abbie fiercely before Abbie gets a lose grip on her tail and with a flick of her wrist sends Sophie twirling. "Abbie!" she cries. "Abbie's on the loose--run!" 

"The destruction of Mighty Abbie" Danny gasps as he heaves himself out of the water. "That can be a thing."

Abbie gets a grip long enough to laugh at her outburst. "Sorry guys. Guess I got worked up."

"No, actually, Abs, you gave me an idea." Danny grins as he wrings out his shirt. "And I think it'll be a good one." without further explanation he strides off, slipping once or twice and Sophie chuckling as she watches him go. At the other end Crane has just managed to haul himself onto the edge, face flushed red. Abbie watches him, looking a mess, amused by his fretting and irritated muttering. 

"That's thrice now---no four times--in the short span that I've known you that you've gotten me wet" he grumbles as she approaches. 

"We've gotta stop doing this."

"I don't think my wardrobe will survive it."

"No I mean…starting right now, we've gotta stop, not being honest. We have to start trusting. Look---" and without any prompting from Crane at all he helps her out of the pool to sit next to him, letting her costumed lower half swish in the water. "I should have told you about Luke. I guess. I just….he caught me by surprise. But I told him I'm seeing someone because I like you, as we've already discussed. Guess I figured after already telling him where I stood, I didn't need to trouble you with it."

"Luke?"

"FBI Agent, back in town working a case and…..you were a jerk to me this morning and I'm not going to stand for that."

"As well you shouldn't, and I admit it was poor form of me. I apologize, Abbie. I was a fool. It was inexcusable. And, of course, perhaps there are old feelings you wish to explore---"

"For the first time in a long while Crane I'm not trying to reexamine 'old' things." 

He lets himself reach for her hand, twining their fingers together. "To the new?" he asks. She turns to meet his gaze and he raises her hand to his lips "I'm very, very sorry," and then moves in to kiss her, cradling the side of her face. 

Abbie slaps her tail in the water, splashing loudly and Crane springs apart, laughing and delighted. She beams at him. 

"It's pretty easy to be 'several types of fool where you're concerned', too" 

"Are you off now?"

Abbie scans the suddenly deserted pool. "Guess so."

"How about lunch, my place? I'll cook."

"I'd like that." and then squeals in surprise when Crane swoops her up in his arms.

"Crane I need to get the costume off!"

"No, I'm taking you as is."

"You're going to walk me through the streets like this?!"

"You've dunked me without preamble numerous times. Besides, it's a lovely costume. We'll call it a publicity stunt" he smirks.

"Crane!"

He seals his lips over hers. 

There's suddenly very little worth arguing about.

* * *

 When the door turns and there's laughing on the other end Jenny and Abraham both raise a brow at a soaked man carrying a mermaid inside. Then they realize they have an audience. 

"Guess I don't need to whoop your ass after all." Jenny sighs. "And I was looking forward to it." 

Abbie cracks a smile. 

"Oh God, the two of you, the matching corny smiles." Jenny pretends to wretch. 

Abraham shakes his head. "Disgusting isn't it?"

" _Absolutely vile_." Jenny agrees

Abbie and Crane regard each other, and the other pair, wondering if they realize how 'absolutely vile' they look at the moment flirting with one another. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

Sophie emerges from the change room with Abbie's clothes in hand and Danny frowns. "Uh, you wanna drop these off at her house?" she giggles. 

Danny raises a brow. "Did she seriously leave in the costume?"

* * *

 

Lunch was lively and awkward and too much laughter when Crane had to carry her to the shower so she could rinse off the chlorine, and only once she was out of the costume, stark naked in his shower did she properly remember she didn't have any clothes to change into. They were all out in the kitchen bantering around the counter, the sound of meat sizzling while Cranes baritone echoed around them, regaling them with the tale of their spat at the park and how she'd given all of them a soaking. Jenny's cackling was loud and ringing and pure and Abbie couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with Abraham whispering mocking things of his friend in her ear. 

But Abbie's predicament was plenty distracting. She winces at the idea of slipping the costume back on, she can't really manage walking in the tail piece, a stunted two step shuffle that she is usually promptly spared of via quick change at the park. Here however. 

She pokes her head out the bathroom, listening for their laughter and chatter, deeming them suitably distracted she scans the hallways, there's a door next to the bathroom and one directly across. Costume gathered under her arm, towel wrapped around her torso, she prays she can get in and out without them hearing anything. She dashes across the hall, the door gives easily and whirling around whispers it shut behind her. "Ah hell." she groans noting the pictures of Abraham on the wall, gloves in the corner, weights, and  fumbling with the door slamming back to the room diagonal. 

It's lined with books. Literally. She half fears she's going to have to walk out there with novels strapped to strategic places, a literary Eve. Cursing under her breath she rummages around the room, looking for anything resembling clothes, momentarily distracted by the vast array of books on the shelves and in mid search she reaches to peruse a title--bad timing--she knows in the instant she's doing it---but the book she pulls gives and swings open a closet. She gapes at it. 

 _Where in the hell did he get this?_ She wonders, impressed as she sweeps through the rack and finds one of his billowy shirts---long enough to cover essentials, thankfully. And is just hoping that he might have shorts when the door creaks behind her. 

"Abb--Abbie?" his head pokes around the closet doors and then splutters at the sight of her long brown legs peaking beneath his overgrown shirt. "What," he swallows, "What,"

"Left my clothes behind when you ran off with me like a barbarian."

"I must say I don't regret it," he smirks, leaning against the closet, folded arms, eyes glittering. 

"Could you stop looking at me like that?"

"Like _what_?" he asks all innocence.

"Like you're gonna have me for lunch."

"I'll have you know we've made fajitas. But I'm sure you'd be more, satisfying," he taunts wickedly. 

"Crane!" she hisses, self consciously tugging the bottom of the shirt. "Do you have, shorts, or something?"

"Hmm? Whatever for?" he gazes upon her with a dreamy look on his face that is equal parts alluring and infuriating. 

"I'm not exactly in the habit of prancing around scantily clad---"

"You should certainly make it one----"

"In front of my man's friends," she finishes with raised brows for emphasis. 

Of course that part goes completely over his head. "Your man?" he blinks leaning off the door and reaching for her. She groans. "I like the sound of that. The Man of Mighty Abigail Mills."

"You can keep the moniker if you like but--shorts!"

"And that makes you my, woman?"

"The food is going to get cold. They're going to think we're fooling around back here. And I honestly don't like standing around like this."  

"We own a microwave, I would love nothing more than to fool around with you, back here," he growls, hand snaking toward her waist.  "And you might be more comfortable, lying down." he purrs, lowering his head to kiss her neck. Heat washes over her like someones lit a flame beneath her skin.

"phew!" she flails, pulling away. "What happened to my pace, huh? now you're trying to seduce me."

"There's a certain fun in seeing how riled up you can get. But I stand by my word."

"This a game to you?"

"I never claimed to play, _fair_ ," and his lips capture hers, kissing her slowly, deeply, his hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt on her small frame, it rides up, exposing thigh and his fingers trail down slightly to graze the skin of them as she makes a low sound in the back of her throat. There's something about kissing her that makes him feel like an absolutely ravenous animal.

Something about kissing him that turns her head in all of the right and wrong ways. 

And then he stops. She curses fluently and he grins. "You keep that up, you keep teasing me like that,"

"Oh? and what, pray tell, will you do about it?"

She reaches up to tug his collar, pulling him down to be at level with her. " _Everything_." she promises. His face flushes and she feels a small triumph in that as he reaches into the closet and finds the closest pair of shorts on hand. His mint green casual ones. They fit strange on her given the unaccounted for hips and swell of backside, but it'll do until she can get home. Her stomach growls. Loudly.

"Worked up an appetite have we?"

"Would you shut up?" she laughs, punching him lightly on the arm as they go back out to join Abraham and Jenny in the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 When Frank looks up from his desk his brows raise in interest. He's not sure he's ever conversed with HO in broad daylight, and certainly not in his office. 

"Well well, time does fly. What you got for me."

"Nevins."

"You're gonna have to come stronger than that---"

He drops pills on his desk. Honest to goodness, freaking pills. Frank glances around. 

"Are you crazy," he hisses. "What the hell you doing bringing drugs up in my office."

"You wanted similarities. I've been working on these with Nevins. They should match."

"Gee, promise?" Frank keeps cursing as he swipes them off the desk into a bag, trying to figure out how in the hell he's supposed to drop this off discreetly to the lab. "What made you turn coat?" he drops the bag in his desk, locks it, pockets the key, locks his fingers together and rests his chin on them. 

"Randall was  dear to me. Addiction or no. He was  family. You do not trifle with mine. I mean to make Nevins pay for what he's done."

"You're not gonna get swift justice here." Frank counters. "This is just helpful to have,  I thank you for it. Family?"

"Half brother. Found out late in life." his amber eyes flash. "My father was infamous for stepping out on my mother. I have a sister, young girl, the dog told me about her just before he died."

"Papa was a rolling stone eh."

"They all lose momentum, Irving. They come to rest. I am not done with Nevins."

"By all means knock yourself out. I'll keep a cell warm for ya." Frank warns. Scowling Harmon makes for the door but checks over his shoulder one more time. 

"The warrant?"

"Hmmm?"

"The warrant, Irving."

"What warrant HO?" Franks raises his hands helplessly. "Whatever do I need a warrant for?" 

"A pleasure, Captain."

Frank nods. "Likewise." as soon as he's gone he dials August. "Well, I've got something to run in the lab. And if it matches what I found in Crenshaw, if it backs up Ezra's autopsy? We might have something to go with here buddy."

August splutters a laugh. "It's about damn time." 

Morales enters then and Frank cuts the call short. "How goes the beat?"

"I wanna clean up these streets Frank---someones pushing some deadly stuff out there and all signs point back to _my home town_." he shakes his head. "It's messing with my head. Sleepy Hollow? _**Sleepy Hollow**_? when did here get corrupt? Get interesting for crying out loud," he chuckles darkly. 

"Change of the tide, my boy. Change of the tide. Got anything?"

"Mills is clear. Had a damn near heart attack when I mentioned Ezra."

"We all took that hard. Grew up with the man."

Luke nods solemnly. "Well, look, I got someone I do want to look into down here, name that circulated back in the city, someone they call HO?"

Frank's knee jerks, slamming underneath the desk. He bites back a yelp. That's his damn bad knee. "HO?"

"Harmon Odesu" Freaking Morales opens the hefty manila folder he had tucked under his arm. "Dealer right? Been in the business for over a decade, easy. I'm gonna search him and any and everyone he's affiliated with."

"Thorough man," Frank says with approval, though his throat has gone dry. 

"Yeah, look into properties, you know anything he's washing cash through. I hear pharmaceuticals isn't his only trade. Likes fraud too. Internets scams etc. If I find anything I'm gonna seize it. Getting a warrant today."

Frank pauses with his coffee on route to his mouth. " _Hmmm_?"

"People tell me he's got a girlfriend running a shop? Oldest trick is to filter dirty money through storefront services. I'm sure there's gonna be something there."

"Hell." Frank mutters as he takes a swig. "Hell and damn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't Frank just promise no one's gonna be searching Pandora's Parlour?


	21. Chapter 21

"Nevins stopped by." August wheezes, watching Lori stubbornly unpack what remains of a DVD collection into the cabinet. "I don't know why you're bothering with that I keep telling you I'm not gonna be around---"

"You stop it." Lori reaches down and lifts out a video tape. "My God." she laughs. "August you still have VHS?"

"Only the special ones."

"What could be," she slides it out of it's paper box casing and glances at the words scrawled on the side. Tears start to her eyes. She hadn't been prepared for this assault today. To be abruptly shoved down memory lane. Or more like she'd been hit by the transit that ran the reminiscing route. " _August_ \---"

"One of my proudest moments was being best man to Ezra at your wedding, Lor."

She strokes the chicken scratch penmanship: Ezra and Lori Mills Wedding. 

"You know mine, it, I watched it so much after Ezra died," she quips, wiping the tears. "The film, it bunched, it just---" she breaks off to laugh in disbelief. "I missed him so much. I missed him so much some days I wanted to die, and I might have done it too, torturing myself reliving the happiest day of my life."

August nods to her, eyes sympathizing and glistening with unshed tears. He didn't stay long after Ezra died. Couldn't. "Sorry I wasn't there for you Lor. Help you through the grief."

"Your house burned down. You had your own issues to deal with." 

"You take it. No no," he insists when she begins to mount a feeble protest. He smiles kindly at her. "No sense in me keeping it. Boy will just box it up when I go under."

"Stop talking like that August" she snaps, a small fury lighting through her. "Abbie and Joe are doing so much, working so hard and---"

"I know, Lor, I know. I'm--- guess I'm just prepared for the worst."

Phone rings. Lori glances at it. He nods his ascent. "Hello?"

"Hey Aug---hey now that's a woman's voice."

She chuckles. "Well it sure ain't the craggy ole man that putters around here. Who's calling."

"Who's answering?" they counter.

"Only one man I know in the world who could be that deliberately obstinate."

"Is that Lorelei Mills?"

"FRANK"

Frank chuckles on the other end. 

"Put him on speaker." August laughs. 

"It's a personal matter August," Frank's voice pipes in.

"Nothing personal about it Cynthia gave Lori the meat of it ages ago."

A calculated pause before Frank heaves a heavy sigh. "You know?"

"I do." Lori concedes, searching the room for her bag slides the VHS of her wedding in the large inner pocket, mouthing a grateful thank you to August who nods with a warm smile. "So tell us what we're working with."

"And tell me its good because Nevins came to pay me a visit the other day."

Lori whirls on him. "Nevins?"

"Nevins?" Frank inquires. 

"I started to tell you before you started saying what a fossil I am for keeping video tapes." August scrunches his brow. "Don't know what he's been hearing, but came around asking after my health. Basically asked if I had any unfinished business. Kindly threatened me not to step in any shit before I die."

Lori's skin crawls. She once called that man a friend, back in school. She had trusted him, thought he was a bit odd yes, but sweet, in that book worm way. He'd even, tried to look after him, when Ezra passed, before that horrible slimy come on in her kitchen. Time changes everything. "He said that?"

"Not in so many words but that was the gist." August grunts, shifting in his chair he reaches for the pills and knocks them back with a glass of water. They help with the pain, but even surgery and treatment at this point, while expensive, is largely experimental. 

They'd as much as told him they'd be test driving it on him. Lori purses her lips and then takes a seat opposite. "You okay?" she mouths. He nods, waving her off. 

"So tell me you got good news _Irv_."

"No match."

"What?"

"What my source got me doesn't match what was on Crenshaw and….." Frank's voice trails off.

"I know what's going on Frank." Lori insists. 

"Ezra, all those  years ago. Something else though that's interesting. Formulation is almost exactly the same."

"A copycat drug?"

"No I'd say they're precise enough to come from the same genius." he drawls sarcastically.  "One I got here called Miracle."

* * *

 

Luke had given him the details of what he was tracking down that morning. What alarmed him was it had been circulating among young athletes. "Ten in hospital, one dead on the track another overdosed on it. Trying to win sports scholarships and loosing their lives. I'm not about it Frank."

"Street name?"

Another damn sheet of information. "Miracle--gives'em the fast results they want, but the chemical levels in here are too high for teenagers--and poses potential long term damage to adults. It's not even a company that we can investigate and sue. So they're getting maximum sentence I can give them"

Which was bad news, seeing as after lab testing, it had been abundantly clear that 'Miracle' was exactly the drug HO had dropped off that morning. 

"What about Randall"

"Some knock off? I don't know." Luke had tsked. "But it's even worse. Packs double the punch aptly called "Mighty"  and it's a ticking time bomb."

"Sounds like you're at a fork in the road Morales."

"With any luck they'll both lead to the same scum bag. "

"Motivation?" Frank had templed his fingers on the desk, absorbing the information. 

"Don't know, maybe had plans to put it on market---test driving it on those desperate enough to try it free first. The other---it's a crime bosses dream. Wrong hands it's assassination in a swallow." 

* * *

 

"Other one they call,  Mighty. Only thing is, matches or no, I can't prove it's Nevins yet. And I've got that Fed--you met him August, poking around same said source. Can't quite tell if it'll get better or worse if they find cause to lock him up

"You just need to find record of it being on Nevins, in his possession."

"Need a warrant for that and if you don't think Nevins would sooner burn everything than have it seized think again." 

"So you need someone to go in, someone he's close to."

"That bridge is burned. Nevins stepped on the mans toes. Come to think of it, locking him up might spare him a murder charge---he sounded mad."

"I could go." Lori volunteers. On the other end Frank's jaw has dropped.

"You've finally lost your damn mind."

"Lori." August begins. "Lori, _no._ "

"When was the last time you even talked to him?"

"Years ago"

"Oh great."

"But that might not matter….." August starts slowly. "When he, paid me a visit, the other day…..he still seemed to be….carrying the torch. Went down in your apple pie that's for sure." 

"No way is Atticus going to suddenly believe you want to make nice with him again after all this time."

"Tell me our other options then."

"Let me and the FBI, let justice and the law do their job."

"Because justice and the law put Nevins away when I lost my husband, right? Because justice and the law locked him up and threw away the key."

"Lori."

"You think I don't remember what a compound looks like?" she bursts out. "I just need to get in there, find his notes--he'll have em, Nevins was tidy about that---"

" _Ten years ago"_  

"If I find something that matches either, we've got him."

"Through unlawful means, it'll never be admissible in court and  you'll be hanging a suspension over my head."

"Then you didn't hear this conversation, Frank. You didn't hear a word." 

* * *

 

Just before Luke was prepared to leave he'd turned back to Frank. "You heard Abbie's seeing someone?"

"You don't say," he began shuffling papers on his desk, rising to his feet as a clear sign of dismissal. "You've only been gone, two, three years?" 

"Guy named Ichabod Crane?"

"Oh yeah I know the name."

A raised brow. "He's known?"

Frank scoffs. "Nah. He's a boxing coach for Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt, got on the Mills girls bad side early on, made the paper. Didn't press charges though. Glad he didn't, wouldn't have liked to bring charges against Lori's girls." 

"Boxing."

"Don't follow it anymore," Frank says. "Heard he had a close night first fight here with Corbin's boy---old man you met the other day--- been on a mean streak since. I _hear_." he makes a point of brandishing the sports page of the paper at him. 

"Van Knock Out: A Terror ripping through all comers" it goes on about the sudden increase in his quality of performance--credits rigorous training and his coach; Ichabod Crane. 

Luke's eyes narrow. "How mean"

* * *

 

"Abraham you're looking ace out there my man." Nevins congratulates him after another win. A good one tonight too, went up against Angel of Death. It was close and a few times Abraham thought something inside him might burst, so battered and banged up, but he caught his second wind and in a blind red rage had just kept pummelling. The crowd was visibly flinching and the bell dinging and people trying to haul him off his opponent, covering his head in the corner. 

"Spectacular form." Crane seethes, watching as Nevins pokes and prods  at Abraham, listening to his heart beat with dire concentration and hurried, detailed notes. "Got carried away in there though didn't you?"  

Abraham bares his teeth at him. "I was just delivering a message."

"I think we all got it," his friend snaps before there's a knock on the door. "Hello? how can I help you?"

The man on the other side offers his hand and a gleaming smile. Dressed casually in collared shirt and slacks.

Nevins casts a cursory glance in their direction but goes back to his examination of Abraham--he hisses. "You'd better ice that." he says, feeling the fingers in his hand. "But ought to be good." 

"Just wanted to beat the crowds back here, you really did him in" the stranger exclaims eagerly. 

Abraham shrugs, all cavalier. He looks frightening, muscles  bulging and heaving. His face is flushed. 

"Well here you are, I'm Ichabod Crane, coach and manager" he extends his hand. "My client and friend, Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt."

"Luke Morales." 

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

"Boxer Angel of Death in hospital, rib fracture and concussion after match with Van Knock Out"

The headline had read on Monday's paper. There had been a media swarm when Abraham had left the arena. Incessant voices questioning and Crane roaring to clear a path so they could pass.

 

Luke had trailed after them, listening to the murmurs of the reporters around him. They suspected the same thing he did. 

"Now I'm getting somewhere." 

 

* * *

 

"HO"

"Irving."

"You didn't hear it from me and I'm tossing this phone when I get off. But FBI's going in for you and they over rule me."

"Captain---"

"Go it alone for a while HO. Whatever you were working on with Nevins has you on their radar, can't play nice with you anymore. I'm….I'll always be grateful for what you did….you know that. And if they catch up to you, I'll see what I can do but for now…..stay out of my way Harmon. And let Pandora in, whatever's coming your way, she'll be better off knowing which way is up."

"Frank. Irving."

"I'm not burning you Harmon. I'm giving you a heads up aren't I?"

"I have helped you for years."

"I just told you to toss all your incriminating shit so you don't get in hot water---aren't I helping you? If this phones tapped I'm fucked. Think on that."

"Captain," Harmon hisses, panic, a foreign emotion dancing up his spine. He's literally standing on the other side of the door. He called Pandora almost immediately after their meeting to say she won't have to worry about the intrusiveness of an investigation---and now this. "Frank, she's not going to---"

"She will if she's the ride or die she makes out to be. And if not, well…..you always knew you couldn't keep living like this forever without consequences, didn't you?"

 

* * *

 

"This is bull." Joe blinks in disbelief when Jenny, Abbie, and Abraham and Crane come strolling in. "We double dating now?"

"Friendly fight Joe, that's all." she says, patting him on the shoulder. 

"With my competition."

"You haven't seen the way he's been fighting lately," she whispers. "what they're saying about him. When you two knock heads again neither of us are going to be unpleasantly surprised by how much better he's gotten. You see the news?" 

Joe cuts his eye at her and rolls his shoulders. "Crane agreed to this?"

"Crane thinks a fight is a fight."

"But it's recon at my expense."

She slaps his back. "Championship qualifiers in less than a month. What we've been gunning for---"

"I have a fight tonight----you're gonna tenderize me for him?"

"Joe I swear----"

"Baby Joe finished hiding in his mothers skirts?" Crane calls lazily from the corner where Abraham takes some practice swings. Joe cringes, eyes flashing. 

"Don't, call me"

Crane raises a brow. "Wah, wah," he drawls, goading him. Abbie knows Crane is just riling Joe up so he'll fight Abraham, it's good for the both of them to get some practice in, but even her skin prickles at the way he's taunting him now. It makes her feel hostile---a bizarre gift that Crane has, pressing people's buttons---and her fists clench. After all, this is the cocky son of a bitch version of Crane that had been in Abraham's corner that first night. 

Joe's neck flushes and he turns to Abbie. "Wrap me up." he says. "I'm gonna beat Abraham, and then I'm gonna slug your boyfriend," 

In spite of herself, Abbie smiles. "There's my special little guy," she coos and Joe's glare is so hot she feels it like a blade on her skin. "Well? show him, show him Baby Joe's growing up,"

Jenny holds up a little desk bell, and too proudly, too gleefully, gives it a little tap.

_Ding._

* * *

 

 

"No! come _on_ , Joe, block for God's sake"

"You come in here and block!" he shouts back before Abraham crowds him on the rope and takes aim at his ribs, relentlessly. 

He wraps an arm around Abraham's head, squeezing until the assault loses some of it's intensity, throwing blows at his ears and Abraham stumbles back, red like a devil and breathing so hard. Joe goes in. 

It's savage.

It's been, "How long since they first fought?" Crane asks, voice edged with worry.

"Two months? if not more?" Abbie says, flinching when they both strike at the same time, opposite punches to the cheek. But they press on. 

"He's come into himself, hasn't he." Crane says of Joe who seems to have taken a certain determination to give Abraham a broken nose. 

"Him too." Abbie says of Abraham with a frightening determination to crack a rib. "We should stop them." she starts when Joe's back hits pole, and she can hear the grunts as he takes the hits.

"Draw!" Crane announces, hauling himself nimbly into the ring. "DRAW" he commands at Abraham who doesn't stop.

"ABRAHAM" he tries again.

Joe's vision is swimming.

"ABRAHAM."

"ABE" Jenny bounds in, tugging at Abraham's still swinging arms. Crane pulls on the other as they attempt to pry him off Joe. Abbie lodges herself between them, pushing against Abraham's chest and feeling the heat under her palm, the unnatural furnace of him until he's staggered back, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, eyes too wide. Joe slumps down in the corner.

* * *

 

_"A  lucky blow."_

_"I'm sorry. I'm sorry._ "

* * *

 

"Joe," Abbie breathes, falling to her knees beside him she lifts his head. "Joe, Joe, come on Baby Joe,"

Silence.

And then,

A hiss. His eyes wink open. 

" _Oh thank God_."

"You ever let that freak near me again outside of a ring I'm calling the cops." he rasps. "Oh _hey_ , come on Abbie," and he reaches up clumsily to thumb a tear away from her cheek. "I'm good. Look at me. I'm alright."

"No you're not," she hears herself heave. "Joe, when you went down," and then she can't control herself, she can't stop crying, she can't stop shaking, she can't make her arms not wrap around Joe holding him tight and he has no choice but to let her, patting her arm and trying too soothe. 

"I'm….I'm not your dad, Abbie."

"But I saw him when you fell." she gasps, oblivious and not caring how this looks to anyone watching. "I saw what can happen. And it was him all over again." she barely nods her head in Abraham's direction. 

"Abbie?" it's Crane, looking a little puzzled but deeply concerned as he kneels beside them. She shrinks away when he reaches to touch her shoulder. "Abbie," he repeats, dismayed.

She shakes her head and waves him off. It can't be an accident that Abraham has a knack for fighting so hard. It can't be just training that makes him such a menace.

And Crane can't be so stupid that he has no clue. He must know. Abraham must be on something, and if he is, if Crane is….helping him do it……

will Abraham 'accidentally' kill someone else in the ring again? 

"Leave me alone, Crane."

"Abbie."

"Get out of here." 

He doesn't dare argue. He rises to his feet. "Alright then. Abraham, let's go."

He finally seems to come out of his haze and blinks at the spectacle in the ring. "Is he---"

"Let's go, Abraham. We'll talk at home." 

Jenny works her mouth, torn, pats Abraham fleetingly on the shoulder as he gets out the ring, she looks at him sadly as he watches Abbie  with Joe. 

Him again.

It's always him.

What is _wrong_ with him?

In the ring Joe gets to his feet too quickly, smiles too widely, not giving away to Abbie how sore he is, and that yes, now he really does suspect he'll lose his fight tonight after that bout with Abraham. Abbie's eyes are still over bright. When she realizes they're alone she feels a pang of guilt for how she treated Crane. 

But it's a complex thing. 

She has feelings for him, she knows this, it's maddening how quickly it snuck up on her, two weeks after their spat and everything has been….so easy, right, but if there's something he's hiding from her.

If he's endangering Abraham and others---how can she trust a man like that? willing to go such lengths? And yet she finds herself even in that moment trying to rationalize it.

Maybe he is just stupid----she wants this level of naiveté so bad her heart hurts. And then there's Joe. Somehow the thought of danger had managed to go on mute, until just then. 

And curse her memory if it didn't take her right back to the singular moment that changed her life. Jenny's, her mothers. It changed the landscape of their world. 

"I'm fine Abbie." Joe  says, gently disentangling himself and  getting down from the ring and headed for the showers. 

* * *

 

 

"I'm going out," Abraham announces that evening and Crane eagerly lets him go. He fully plans on turning this apartment upside down once he's gone. "Aren't you going to ask where?"

"I could care less." Crane retorts casually. 

"Going for a drink." he calls back. "With Jenny."

"Two menacing peas in a pod," 

A flare of anger lances through him but he reigns it in. "Be back when I feel like it."

"You'll be back sooner than that if you think for one moment Jennifer is going to get cozy with you after the way you carried on today. Joe is family to those women."

"Last thing I need from you right now is a lecture," he growls.

"Go. Enjoy your drink." 

He's so fixated on getting him out the house it's not until he tries the door on Abraham's bedroom---locked---he grumbles in frustration, that he remembers Abraham's been sober for seven years. 

But what's one drink? he thinks, as he rummages around in a tool box, makes a triumphant sound before heading back for his friends door, tools in hand.

* * *

 

"I think he's on something." Luke had announced to Frank the night after he'd innocently introduced himself to Ichabod Crane. 

"Such as."

"My lethal steroid. Miracle. I watched him fight,"

"He could be _on_ anything, you can't prove it's Miracle."

"If I get him in for a drug test I can. And if he's on it, he's gotta have a dealer, someone providing him with it. And that means a deportation if Crane's trafficking."

Frank raises a brow. "You sure this is about the drug and not you eliminating your competition?"

"What?"

"Interesting the leap you took from tracking drugs to deporting Crane." Frank kicks back in his chair, arms folded. 

Luke doesn't answer. 

 


	23. Chapter 23

Outside the apartment Harmon paces, he is never a fidgety man, never an anxious one---but he's never been a man with much to lose.

Money, agents, deals--wash in and out like a tide. Even his life, he knows he owes a debt for his narrow escapes. For the lives he has taken. 

His hands won't wash no matter how far he tries to put the past. The dried blood and bullet holes don't acquiesce to a change of heart and then abruptly, courteously, cease to exist. 

They do not decide to colour him a man which builds things rather than destroy.

He is a crook, and has been, for years. 

When he came into money from a fraud, he was eager to get the cash off his hands. Bought a plot of land. 

He remembers Randall came to him, back then sure handed and keen eyes before addiction would take hold. A little hyperactive though, so it wouldn't be long. Told him he'd heard some girls were looking to purchase the lot from Hidden Properties.

He didn't meet them himself. He'd watched from the car, playing driver, as his realtor--Crooks need proper things like that--- had gone to meet them. He'd seen her from the window. He hadn't meant to be intrigued by Pandora. But there was something to be said of the mole on her chin, her dark pool eyes, the ebony tresses, and the flicker of silver in her tongue. The little ring through her brow, and a few little dermal piercings in a line down her wrist. A black vein, part of a design done by her sisters own hand, curling up out of the neckline of her dress. She was hard not to notice. 

Paperwork had never been so quick. A deal done so neat. Money washed so fast. 

There, legitimate cash to splurge in his hands. 

Then they needed funds for construction---he had ears in places. 

They got passed with out preamble for a loan.

A bank official had been very agreeable with a gun barrel in his back. 

And then he'd approached the contractor, and had seen the potential below for a network of tunnels. Entrance he had installed in the floors. Seamlessly concealed. Only people running for him could find it.

That's right, strangers trolled her shop at night--he gave them a key--and carted their wares into the tunnels. Or sometimes leapt out into freedom through her shop, deftly disabling the alarm when they popped up from the floors, running for alleys once escaped. 

It was a wonder HO and his confederates weren't often caught. Well, traveling underground allows such things. Made it easy too, better to hide, an off shoot tunnel led to his lab. Place he worked with Nevins in making bad things. 

Pandora's signature on form after form after they'd kept crowding her with them. One blueprint slipped in so innocuously, told it was piping. Infrastructure. 

And then the tattoo parlour was complete, open, ready for business. 

And there was a damn drug lab below it, dealers and gangsters, thieves and all at some point a murderer coming and going unbeknownst to her in the dead of night. 

Harmon spotted her with her sister at the bar end of that first week, celebrating.

And he knew he shouldn't have approached her. Not with the fantastic trick he had pulled. But there was really only one way to keep an eye that no one would look beneath her Parlour, keep his lair safe. Look after his interests. He's had women before. Kept them for their purposes.

Pandora was meant to be a safety measure, nothing more. 

So, long after, he dreads how an investigation will unearth ways he has orchestrated her life---repurposed it--for his means. Knowing full well there is little way to explain it.

And no one is going to believe she didn't know about it. 

"Pandora" he rumbles and the lock clicks but the door only opens a fraction.

"I do not appreciate the interruption, Harmon."

"Pandora--"

"But it's well timed that you come now." She swings the door open and tilts her head the side. Her eyes rove over him and he can't discern if its with tenderness or hate, at last her dark eyes meet his amber ones. "Congratulations are in order," she says flatly. "You're going to be a father."

* * *

 

It's her fifth visit to the hospital where Orion is still recovering. 

"That the witch?" he calls. 

Katrina strides forward and frowns. Groaning and miserable the first morning he'd glimpsed all of her black skirts---forgotten already that she etched new gravestones for his horrific Angel of Death tattoo not long ago and had groggily called her a witch. The name has since stuck. "Angel," she hisses and then stops. 

There's a woman at his bedside, a familiar one. 

Pandora gave her those corset piercings that Jenny had exclaimed over. The alternative model. She does inventory of her with the cloud of hair, the septum piercing and the cartilage, the dark skin, the bright eyes. Amber eyes, that glint. 

"Hey!" she greets, rising to her feet. Katrina falters. She hopes Orion would have mentioned by now---yes he's in hospital---but surely her interest in his well being, given how fleeting their first meeting had been, and excruciatingly work related---that he would indicate that if he has a girl friend he should have mentioned it. "Camila O, your sister pierced me, remember?"

A brittle smile. "How could I forget."

"The magazine loved them, I have ten copies at home."

"She goes on and on." Orion mutters. His eyes are closed but he smiles. "But she's my sister, what can I say?"

"Sister?"

"Half." Camila corrects. "Our dad, got around."

"Best friends," Orion chimes. "Our mothers were best friends. Didn't talk for years."

"I grew up here."

"Mom bolted with me."

"High school graduation though, he shows up. Know nothing about him. Tells me 'I'm proud of you sis"

"She called a psyche ward."

Katrina's eyes flit between the two and struggles to find similarities, big, glaring, confirming ones, but it's the eyes she keeps coming back to. 

She's only met one other person in her entire life who has those eyes. 

"Glad you two already know each other," Orion shifts and hisses. "That son of a bitch. When I get out of this bed, when I get him in a ring----" 

Camila rolls her eyes. "He likes to whine this one. Anyway" she clasps Katrina's hand, and reaches to heft a bag over her shoulder. "I need some air. Katrina, right? You can call me Cam." she glances over her shoulder. "I won't tell the nurses if you decide to finish him off," she winks and Orion curses as she leaves. 

"Your sister," Katrina repeats, dumbstruck.

"What, don't we look alike?" 

* * *

 

It doesn't take much for Abraham to get out of control. 

Jenny tells him to take it easy when he pounds back another.

Tells him calm down when someone bumps into him too hard.

* * *

 

"Where, where" Crane grumbles as he throws Abraham's things around the room. "It's got to be….."

A knock at the door. "Damn this." he ignores it but the sound persists. 

Fed up he flings open Abraham's door and something clatters and rolls out of  a jacket pocket. He makes a garbled sound of enthusiasm as he dives beneath the bed for it but the knocking won't stop. He keeps grasping and his fingers close around air….what he hopes are socks….weights, but not the----"COMING" he yells at last. 

 He storms to the door "What the---oh." his voice falls away in shock. He steps quietly aside. "Abbie?"

She flicks her eyes up at him briefly, and with arms folded crosses the threshold. 

"How is Joe?"

"Fine. He's fine." she shakes her head. Tries to talk herself around to how she arrived at the conclusion that she owed Crane an apology. _Because you closed him out today and didn't tell him why_.

_Because you've already accused him of horrible things in your head---and you need him to tell you it's not true---it can't be true._

Because if Abraham hurts someone else close to her someone is going to pay for it this time.

Eye for an eye.

That's how dangerous and gut deep she feels this fear and anger. 

How clutching and vengeful the prospect makes her. 

"Are you alright?" he queries, becoming skittish as she walks past the hall to the living room and he notices he's neglected to close Abraham's door.

"I'm….okay." she sits down on the sofa, looking at him expectantly. 

"I'm…it's a little chilly, isn't it?"

"I guess a litt----"

"Be right back" dashes down the hall, deftly closes his roommates door and then scurries into his own, through the closet to find a sweater--a light one. "Much better" he calls enthusiastically as he rejoins her out front where she is now meandering in the kitchen. 

A little too shyly for his liking. He wants her to be comfortable here.

He wants her to command the space like she does ringside and within it. The way she does in the water. 

The way she storms through his heart.

 Dangerously fast and terrifyingly deep he finds his quick feelings for her grow. Her withdrawal from him earlier today had stung and tore at him, like a barb. 

"Tea?" he offers. 

"Thanks Crane."

With his back still turned he puts the kettle on and looks for mugs. "So."

"What?"

"Tell me," he says meaningfully. "What happened today. With us, I mean. I can't apologize enough for Abraham I don't know what…..he's….too focused, these days." he glances over his shoulder. "But there was more than that."

"I had a bad flash back of when my father died. The way Joe fell," she shudders. 

"And it was Abraham again." 

She bites her lips together. "Yeah. Yeah it was. He put the that guy in hospital Crane, he….I don't like how he handled Joe tonight, he's going to hurt somebody."

"You say that like I can prevent it."

"You don't have him on anything?"

"No." he answers sharply, although there is a nagging feeling in his gut that this is a half truth. He doesn't encourage Abraham to take anything but the change in his friends behaviour is too drastic to ignore. "I would never endorse that, Abbie. Abraham's been sober for seven years. I would never willfully jeopardize that."

* * *

 

At the bar where they are, where Jenny had tried to cut Abraham off at three,  the bartender dials 911.

Someone has fallen. Someone has gone down. 

Someone is broken.

Someone is bleeding.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when you take a mini detour purely for Ichabbie moments. I'll get back to the plot, don't worry, lol.

Abbie studies him, trying to detect a lie. She decides she believes him, to a degree. He may be snarky, cocky, a little quick to judge---but so far he's been honest with her. In his infuriating way. 

Yet.

She knows that even though he might not be giving Abraham any 'extra help' there's something obviously….changed about him. It worries her not only for the safety of other athletes and himself. 

But Jenny is getting a little fond. More fond than she'd ever admit, but she can't quite recall when was the last time she'd seen her sister smile, that, much. And it's young. It's premature, a term she would still apply to herself and Crane, but it's been so long since either of sister has felt anything, charged in their life. Since they've gotten swept up. 

It feels good to just, let it. She doesn't blame Jenny for taking to Abraham, past aside, he seems like he could be decent. 

Like the man who's looking at her with his clear blue eyes so intent. 

It dawns on her its evening and they are alone in his apartment. 

"Sweetness," he calls, waving the mug of tea beneath her nose. 

"Hmm?"

He smiles softly. "Your tea."

"Oh." she laughs raising the cup to her lips she glances up at him beneath her lashes. "Did you just call me sweetness?"

"A pet name. Too soon?"

She tries and fails to hide her smile. "Not at all. I like it."

"It suits you," he says warmly, drinking from his own cup, eyes never leaving hers. 

"Because I'm so sweet?" she teases.

"Precisely that." 

A rosy glow rises to her cheeks as she ducks her head and Crane's heart skips. She is everything, he thinks in that moment. Beginning middle and end. 

"Anyway, I'm….I shouldn't have taken out what I was feeling on you."

"And who else would you take it out on?" he queries, taking her empty mug and depositing it in the sink. "I'm your man, Abbie,"---oh she cannot deal with the stupid way her heart hammers to hear him say it "----I'm the one you're supposed to come to with these things. I'll even take a few hits. Just don't leave me in the dark, love. Alright?"

"Sweetness, Love, you're on a roll tonight." 

"Have I really only called you two terms of endearment?"

"Only ones I've ever heard you say," she laughs.

"A grievous mistake. Which I shall rectify immediately." he clears his throat and Abbie leans back on the counter, arms folded, head tossed back, prepared to be showered with praises. 

"Treasure, for I Treasure you." he recites. "Sweetness, for you are so. Darling, because you are dear. Tart, because you are sharp. Fierce, for being so fiery. Baby," he wrinkles his nose on that one and Abbie bites back a laugh. There could not be a more alien word to leave Crane's mouth. " _Baby_ ," he tries again, as if getting used to the way it sounds. "Baby, baby baby," he carries on, settling into a rhythm and drawing closer, his face splitting into a smile as he takes her hand. "Baby. Because the word itself alludes to new, sweet, innocent, pure, beginning, young. That's how I feel about you." he lifts each hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, still gazing into her eyes. "Although they are not entirely innocent." 

"You forgot Sugar." she purrs, cupping his cheek. He drops her hands and goes for her waist and in a fluid motion sets her on the counter top. She is eye level with him now, legs dangling on either side of him as he sidles closer and leaning in he presses a kiss to her neck. 

"Sugar" he murmurs, placing kiss after kiss, pausing to lick and then suck on her skin. "Delicious Sugar." his fingers dance around the edges of her top, around the hem, darting a little up the back. "They always say too much Sugar is bad for you. Are you bad, for me Abbie?"

"I could be bad _for_ you."

" _Oh?_ " he breathes, withdrawing and hovering before her. "How so?"

"I could do bad things,"

"Hmmm" he moans. Kisses her nose daintily. "What bad thing would my baby want to do?"

The more he says it, the word Baby stops sounding ridiculous and dangerously seductive. "Anything" she hears herself say. "I'm bad for my baby." He groans at the endearment and goes in for the kill. 

Their lips move slowly at first, teeth and tongue until it progresses and they kiss harder, deeper, he steps closer, she locks her legs around his waist, keeping him right there in place, presses against him, arches, rolls her body, telling him she needs him to touch her, feel her. His hand winds in her hair and he gives as good as she gets with his kisses and he keeps leaning into her, finding that warm place between them, where he direly wants to be. "Abbie" 

"Ichabod,"

He throws his head in her neck,trailing kisses and pulling at the collar of her shirt so he can kiss and taste shoulder. "I'm starving."

She lifts a hand to her mouth, and sucks on his finger, twirling her tongue around it. 

"I'm a ravenous man." he warns. "I'm a glutton."

She drags him back to kiss her, catches his bottom lip between her teeth, tugs it gently before pulling away. "Come and have your fill," she invites.

 

* * *

 

The sweet spot---

is right there, right here, with her beneath him. With such slow savouring, and he gets to watch every moment on each long, deep, steady stroke. He sees when he's just at the right angle, the way her eyes shimmer, her hair splayed out around her, lips swollen and kiss bruised, skin a fine sheen of sweat and he has been licking up drops every chance he get in his torturous slow love making. It's driving her insane, pushing her up to the brink but he doesn't let her topple over and she doesn't even mind, because she took the cliff of ecstasy at a full run moments, before chased off the edge by his tongue and fingers, plummeting fifty thousand feet down, down, down, with a blissful scream. This slow, steady mountain trek is for him. It's intimate and deep and close. 

There is just panting breaths and bodies moving. "Love," he hisses as he glides in again. "Because I do." 

Wait. "Crane?"

 _Oh._ _**There**_. She loses her train of thought as he begins to increase his speed, and then it's a runaway train. There is nothing to catch him, nothing to catch her and they fall, tumbling and freewheeling, coming back down again in the warmth of the other. Breathless but alive. Awake. Worn. 

"Crane?" she manages after moment, stroking his back. She turns and kisses his ear. He turns his head and smiles sleepily at her. "Did you say you love me?"

"I do. I love you Abbie."

She puts her body weight into rolling them over and he blinks up at her in surprise. "I love you," she confesses. "I don't know how deep, I don't know if this is too soon, but----"

"Sssh" he coaxes, and she nestles into his arms. "We don't owe anyone explanations. Not even ourselves. Hearts can't be reasoned with. And I don't know about you but mine is very stubborn. Sleep, Sweetness."

"Night Baby."

"I could get used to this," he hums happily as she yawns. 

And so could she. 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And away we go.

Morning breaks with his fingers trailing lazily along her naked curves pressed against him. She shifts once or twice, ticklish before her over on her back, lets his hands caress her hips as he begins kissing from her throat downwards. 

"Mmmm Crane,"

"Good morning." he greets, continues his trail below navel, meanders around the join of her hip before throwing a leg over his shoulder. 

His breath ghosting across her makes her eyes snap open. "Ichabod," her fingers twine in his hair and he inhales deeply. "What---"

"You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, _don't you Sweetness_?"

Who know's what daft part of her opens her mouth to disagree---she actually can't stand breakfast---but it doesn't matter, the thought evaporates entirely.  

After, weak kneed and body humming he swings out of bed, headed for the shower and has the nerve to smirk over his shoulder. "Delicious _and_ nutritious. Thank you for breakfast, Love," 

He dodges the pillow that she launches at his retreating back and then screams joy, frustration and disbelief into the pillow. 

She's never met a man who could make her this fantastically crazy. She's lazily turning over in the bed, water running in the shower, thinking of joining him, when there's a demanding racket at the door.

* * *

 

"Lori?" Atticus asks in disbelief, stunned by the woman his doorstep. She's carrying a box that smells of fresh baked goods. He wonders if he's still asleep.

"Atticus….it's been a long time." 

He remains there in the doorway and belatedly steps aside, inviting her in. "How did you get here?"

"I've always known, Atticus. You think people don't talk about Doctor Nevins with the sprawling home?"

"Why didn't you come, sooner," he asks. 

 _Not too soon_ , he thinks, but after things blew over, I thought at the very least you'd have come to argue with me about collecting debt from Ezra I only bothered going after it for a chance to see you---God knows I didn't want the money Lor---I didn't need it, not after what I had just done---, I'd been waiting for you to barge down my door and I'd try to calm you down in your beautiful fury, and ask you to come in. And we'd have talked. And I'd have said, 'Forget the money, Lor How can I help?' 

But no, you stayed away, in your deep mourning. Then too late I had to change tact and attempt to play nice but that never came off well, and then that day in the kitchen. 

It scarred. The knife she had passed across the back of his hand. He looks down at it and sees the most perfect even cut, the day he received his official, clear refusal from Lori Mills. He holds that hand behind his back now, some stupid notion that she might see it and regret. 

She shrugs as she steps in, casting her gaze about the entrance. She holds her composure well, not exclaiming about the size or decor of the place. Takes it in with silent awe. "Well you've done well," she says, voice very steady. 

"Still working on it." 

"Who lives in this monstrosity with you?" she asks, letting a smile flit across her face. "All these rooms?" 

"Nothing to fill it with,"

"Well that's a shame," she clucks her tongue. "Should have married Atticus."

"A wife, children," he lists wistfully. "Sons," he chances a glance her way. " _Daughters_. One of each." 

"Why didn't you?" she wanders beside him as he leads the way to the kitchen. 

"No one for me" he answers hurriedly, nods to the box. "What'd ya bring me Lor?" her eyes flicker to his at the way he says her name. A little shaky, but meaningful. 

"You still like carrot cake?" 

"After all this time?"

"Well do you or not?"

He opens the lid of the box and inhales gratefully. "You know I don't think anyone ever truly understood me except you." 

She looks away and clears her throat, the air heavy with some belated clarity. Had she really missed this when they were young? It's so clear now, so obvious. 

That forgotten pass in her kitchen had not been something strange or out of the blue. He'd been building to this. He's been tending it still, all this time, if the way he looks at her now is any indication. 

"Don't I get a tour?"

He swallows, licking his lips, eyes alight. 

Why does this hurt so much, she wonders. 

Because you really did trust him. You really got along. You were real, true, friends. He looked after your husband, played with your daughters, but there's a veil around Ezra's death---and you suspect him. Someone she's known all these years, had he really conspired to hurt her? How could he not have known it would lead to that? 

"Sure thing, Lor," and his voice sounds so, light. She doesn't want to care nor listen as he shows her living room, dining room, this or that, what catches her eye is a room crammed with books and journals, a grand desk, and a globe---oh look at the ostentatious idiot you've become Atticus she muses before getting up the nerve to touch his shoulder. 

"Is that your study?"

He pauses. "Yeah, it's not that---"

"Do you remember some of our experiments?" she asks. "Mixing elements? Do you do any of the exercises anymore? for fun? It keeps me sharp in the kitchen," she smiles. 

"I…I might actually have one of my old text books," he frowns as he enters and she trails behind him, helps herself to a seat, eyes scanning over the whole room. Looking for anything that might hint at what she wants. "I have to ask after all this time Lor,"

The familiarity of it makes her cringe. 

"What took you so long to come visit me?"

Here it is. "I'm sure you've heard by now about August," he pauses imperceptibly as he roams over his shelves, ear cocked, listening. "He's…..well we were all friends once and he's not doing well, and……it puts things in perspective, you know?"

At the imploring note in her voice he turns around and joins her on the other side of the desk. She reaches across the surface for his hand. She sees the flush creep up his neck. "Do you remember, my first day, they all looked at me so strange,"

"Envy that's all," he answers, gazing into her eyes. "Jealous."

"And I sat down beside you,"

"You didn't really have much choice all the other seats were taken," he continues, seemingly bashful. 

"And you asked me how I solved the first equation so quick. You didn't think it was fashionable to be stupid. We got along, didn't we?"

"Famously. I would ditch the guys to work out reactions with you, you were so smart, Lori. You wanted to be a doctor first---"

"And you know biology was not my favourite---"

"And I _told_ you I would tutor you, take some make up courses over the summer and----" she shakes her head, erasing that part of the past from the conversation.

 _But you didn't want to spend time away from Ezra_ , he seethes. He told you what a gift you had for pastry and you were enrolled in school for that before I could blink. August had exclaimed over your red velvet one night and the next day he came to the park where we all were, armful of brochures, and Ezra was leaning over your shoulder, beaming at you, filling your head with possibilities for this dream---who even knows if it had ever crossed your mind before _damn August_ interfered. 

"You were always a good friend to me back then Atticus. You'd have never hurt me," she meets his eyes and they shimmer. Is this a man who truly concocts deadly substances in his spare time? While tending to injuries creating stealthy ways to create them? 

Is this the man, who loved you, she realizes with fright----Atticus loved you Lori, loves, still, and how deeply did that river run---would he have deliberately harmed Ezra---your husband, one of his close friends----

"Never," he says, leaning up out of his chair, across the desk, gripping her hand. "I'd have never hurt you, Lori, I've always---"

"Did you find any of the books?" she interrupts, distracting him. "Do you have beakers? Atticus we should do one of the experiments, for old times sake."

"I….I might have something we can use, wait, wait, here," he stammers, leaving the room.

 _I bet you do_ , Lori thinks sourly, watches his retreating back and then changes sides of the desk and beings rummaging through papers, hands shaking, who knows how soon he'll return. She pulls on the drawer and of course it's locked. 

Damn, she thinks, rooting around in her hair for a pin, praying as she jigs it in the lock and laughing with relief when it gives with a click and slides out. 

"Would it have killed you to be tidy" she scolds as she sifts through, eyes skimming over different chemical names and she's very proud of herself that she does still read up on things like this, still solves for them in spare time, stays on the ball----so she knows when a compound doesn't match up. It's not a thing. NMV and EMM, they don't add up to any combinations she knows, they don't----the sheet behind it, however, sketches out a rough plan of what he's been devising these for. These aren't chemical names, they're made up, one has observations scribbled beneath it, and there's the thinnest little notebook there too, with all these symptoms. 

Increased agility.

Speed.

Fluctuation in temperature.

Higher emotional response.

Less control.

Increased growth. 

More blood cells…….

"Marked improvement, fights stronger, harder, brutal strength." 

Her eyes narrow and she sets that aside. Nevins Miracle Vitamin. Whoever's getting it on the street calls it Miracle. 

But its the other one, and her eyes water now.

Less measured notes, more like private revelations. 

Finally managed the same mixture as last time. Only took ten years to perfect. 

And the details all run into one another but what it comes down to is the drug affects the body and blood flow in such a way that it essentially detonates under high stress, high activity, impact. Ruptures the aorta and there's no coming back from that. 

None. 

That son of a bitch. She cries, swiping away the tears. He named it after him. 

'For my friend who fought so hard and went down swinging,the EMM compound for  Ezra Mighty Mills" 

Lori hears a click. 

"Put the files down," She looks up angrily and then freezes. "Put the files down." 

* * *

 

Abbie's phone goes off just at that moment and she's torn between that and the door. The banging gets louder. "I'm coming!" she calls at last. "Coming!"

* * *

 

 

"Abraham Van Knock Out Brunt was taken into hospital last night, he got into an altercation with another patron at Mabie's pub. His opponent suffered a broken nose and fracture around the socket. Abraham  fell suddenly, throwing up on the floors and didn't wake up. His stomach was pumped. Details have yet to be released what affected Van Brunt and what started the confrontation with the other patron."

* * *

 

"Jenny?" Abbie answers as she shrugs on Crane's shirt, hopping into her shorts and goes to the door. 

"They're coming to the apartment----they're going for Crane----they found---"

"What?"

"Abbie Abraham's in hospital and they found drugs in his system----they're saying---"

"OPEN UP" 

The authoritative tone grabs Abbie's attention and she lowers the phone. "Jenny hold on okay." and approaches the door, she's just barely turned the lock and grasped the handle, aiming to open it only a sliver when the door fires back and she staggers as Luke storms in. 

"Luke?"

"Where is he?"

"What? Luke, what's going on?"

"FBI!" Luke yells, and in storms five other men, turning the place upside down. 

"Hey!" Abbie shouts. "Luke what the hell is the meaning of this?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

The water stops and Crane emerges, dazed, dressed and clean and clearly puzzled. "Aren't you the man---" he begins before Luke shouts over him again. 

"Hands above your head!" 

"I beg your---"

"Hands above your head or we shoot!" 

"Luke you're being insane!" she calls, raising her arms and standing in bewildered terror as they tear through one room then the other. She can hear Jenny's frantic voice on the line but current circumstances are all consuming. 

"What is the meaning of this!" Crane demands, shuffling over to her. "He came to see Abraham's fight, not long ago, he---"

One of the men come storming out of Abraham's room with a bottle held in his hand. Crane's heart drops. 

How could he have forgotten. He'd been looking for that, to determine what it was, first of all, before Abbie had shown up and…..it had becoming unanimously less interesting. The man drops hands it to Luke, he unscrews the bottle, shakes out a pill, withdraws a bag and then says without preamble. "Cuff him" 

" _What_ " Abbie gasps but then they are grabbing Crane, wrenching his arms behind his back, snapping cold unyielding chain around his wrists. " _What are you doing_?"

"Your man here," Luke says, calmly, business like. "Has been providing Abraham with an illegal substance. I've been tracking this from the city, high power steroid, you don't wanna know how many young athletes I've had over dose or die on the stuff."

"No." Abbie shakes her head vehemently. "Crane doesn't know anything about that. It might be Abraham's but Crane doesn't know anything." 

But Crane doesn't answer. True, he didn't know for sure, but he had suspected. He's in too much shock to understand what's going on. 

"Crane?" she pleads. " _Crane_ tell them they've screwed up, t _his isn't you, this isn't Abraham_."

"I think I know where he got it." Crane says numbly, thinking back now on Nevins and his at home visits and strangely beyond professional interest of a doctor in his ring performance. 

"You can tell us all about it down at the station Mr. Crane." Luke says matter fact, nodding to the men who begin marching Crane out the door. He stops briefly to glance over his shoulder. "I'm sorry Abbie."

Shock, cold, cruel, washes over her.

She looks around at the ruin of the place Crane and Abraham had been calling home, at the careless ransacking and thinks back on the night before full of warm loving moments and now stripped so bare. Jenny is still on the phone. 

"Abbie what happened? what the hell was that?"

It takes a while to make her voice work. "They've…..they've taken him in, Jenny. Drug possession." the words taste like powder in her mouth. 

A beat of silence. "They've got men here watching Abraham too. The minute they ran blood tests----," 

On opposite ends of the line the Mills girls sit in silence, lips that threaten to tremble, and tears that fight them to the death until a solitary one escapes. Hearts heaving and battered and bruised. 

Neither of them have ever set foot in a ring professionally. 

But they imagine this is what it feels like to get knocked out. 

_Might-y Might-y_

_clap clap, clap clap clap._

_Might-y Might-y_

_clap clap, clap clap clap._

Funnily enough, this is the chant echoing in their ears. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, What's gonna happen to Lori? Will They Nevins in time?
> 
> How soon before they haul in HO?
> 
> What will they accuse pregnant Pandora of?
> 
> Why has Frank been playing nice with HO all this time?
> 
> What happens to Ichabod and Abraham?
> 
> August?
> 
> Joe?
> 
> Will Orion be returning to the ring soon? 
> 
> Will we see more of his sister, Camila O.? 
> 
> Answers,
> 
> 'next season on Fight For It'


End file.
